


Loathe It or Level It

by Kitsfics



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, F/M, Friendly Rivalry, Love It or List It AU, Modern Era, Modern Westeros, Sexual Tension, There may be some tropes, adversaries to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:34:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26568130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsfics/pseuds/Kitsfics
Summary: Sansa Stark is one of Westeros’s premiere home designers, turning even the ugliest, most cramped, dysfunctional homes into real estate gems. Jaime Lannister is a high-powered realtor, capable of finding the right listing for even the pickiest buyer, and under budget. Tyrion, Jaime’s brother and a successful television producer, pitches an idea for a new show: Love It or List It. Tyrion will find couples who disagree about the usefulness of their current houses; Sansa will take a renovation budget and redesign their house to make it work for the family, while Jaime will try to persuade the couple to move by finding the perfect house that fits all the couple’s must-haves. In the end, the couple will have to decide to stay in their house, or sell and buy a new home.Only trouble is, Sansa and Jaime can’t stand each other. Jaime is smug and over-confident, Sansa is exacting and a perfectionist. After filming the first episode, Jaime’s researcher Podd and Sansa’s design assistant Ygritte have dubbed the show “Loathe It or Level It”. Can Sansa and Jaime get through the first season without killing each other? Or will they be able to renovate their first impressions?
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Sansa Stark
Comments: 52
Kudos: 97





	1. The Pilot

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when you watch waaaaayyyy too much Love It or List It. This is my first time writing a real Jaimsa fic, so I hope you like it! Chapters might come a little sporadically. I hope they aren't too long, but I want to pretty much encompass a whole episode in one chapter.
> 
> I already have at least 5 more episodes/chapters planned, so there should be plenty to keep me going for a while.
> 
> Leave me a comment if you like it, or you have an idea for a couple I could feature in a future episode/chapter!

Tyrion waved at Jaime from a table in the corner of the restaurant, raising a glass of what appeared to be Arbor Gold as his brother approached the table.

“Dear brother. You look better each time I see you, you bastard,” he greeted Jaime with a big grin.

“And you look a little more lecherous every time I see you,” Jaime remarked with a smile as he sat down. A server in a short skirt and crisp white shirt appeared at Jaime’s elbow.

“Whiskey, neat,” Jaime ordered.

“ _ Whiskey, neat _ ,” Tyrion mocked in a sing-songy voice as the pretty, young server walked away.

Jaime shot him a disparaging look. “Did you ask me here just to make fun of me?”

Tyrion sipped his wine, set the glass aside as the server returned with Jaime’s drink. “Actually, I didn’t. I want to propose a business venture.”

Jaime cocked one golden eyebrow. “The last one made us enough money to live off for decades. It’s never enough with you, is it?”

Tyrion cracked half of a smile. “Certainly not. What am I going to do, just retire early and live off my money? Though now that you mention it-”

Jaime chuckled as he took a sip of the amber liquid, smooth and smoky, burning exquisitely down his throat. “Right, like you could ever stop. You hardly even take vacations!”

“I took a very nice vacation to Volantis last month. Spent the whole two weeks beneath the thighs of a lovely- no we’re fine here, thank you,” Tyrion cut off, waving away the pretty blonde server who had approached the table.

“Besides, this isn’t a real-estate venture. It’s related to my day job.”

Jaime furrowed his brow as he took another sip. Tyrion’s day job referred to the nominal position he held as an executive producer for Westeros One, the television channel that broadcast everything from dating shows to home makeovers to paranormal “investigations” that consisted of too many sweaty men crammed into tiny, dark spaces with tape recorders.

“A television show?”

Tyrion nodded. “I got the idea from my assistant Margaery, she’s always twittering on and on about her husband Bronn, and how he wants to fix up their house, but she’s tired of the headache, she just wants to sell and get a new house.”

Jaime stared at Tyrion for a moment. “You actually listen to someone?” he asked with a deadpan expression.

“Well, she’s very pretty. I let her ramble.”

“I don’t see where the show is.”

“My dear brother, you have no imagination. I’m picturing you, the golden boy of Westeros, as a realtor who will come into the couple’s life, knight in shining armor. You’re going to find them the perfect house, you say. It’ll fix all their problems, it’ll be a dream house that they’ll never even think of redoing or selling.”

“And that’s it, I get them to move?”

Tyrion waggled one finger. “Not so fast, because there’s another person, a designer, who tells the couple that she’s going to fix their current house, take a renovation budget and completely redo all the problem areas and make their current house their dream home so they don’t have to move.”

“Well, she’s going to have a lot of issues with that, I mean, most people can’t afford to  _ completely _ redo their entire home to make it perfect, and what if someone wants more space but it’s a tiny house? That’s not even accounting for the issues she’ll discover as she starts to tear things down and fix them!”

Tyrion just smiled and shook his head. “Jaime, these are not problems! They’re plot points for good television! And besides, you’ll run into issues too. They’ll want a bigger house in their same expensive neighborhood, but not be willing to pay for it.” Tyrion chuckled. “Trust me, it won’t be a cake walk for you either.”

Jaime considered this point, shrugged his shoulders. “So who’s going to be this miracle designer? You have someone in mind?”

Tyrion grinned. “Actually, I do. You know her too.”

Jaime’s face froze. “You can’t be serious-”

Tyrion held up a hand. “Think this through. You need someone amazing at their job, and whatever her faults, you have to admit she’s an amazing designer.” When Jaime started to protest, Tyrion cut him off with an “Ah ah ah! Admit it!”

Jaime sighed, rolled his eyes. “Fine, she’s a good designer.”

“No, amazing!”

“Alright alright. She’s an  _ amazing _ designer,” Jaime admitted, mocking Tyrion’s nasal drawl. “But she’s a complete pain in the arse! Obstinate, stubborn, Type A, prissy perfectionist!”

“That’s exactly what we need! I want that tension. I want the viewer to wonder when you’re going to come to blows. Because you’ll be adversaries, we don’t want you to get along. Take my word, it’ll be genius!”

Jaime drained his drink, setting the empty glass on the table in front of him with a sharp rap. “For fuck’s sake, Tyrion. Does it have to be Sansa Stark?”

Tyrion chuckled, tenting his fingers before. “Absolutely! Her people have already agreed.”

Jaime pulled a face. “‘Her people.’ So pretentious! Who has people?”

Tyrion sighed. “She has an agent for television appearances. Of course she does. You do.”

Jaime looked nonplussed. “That’s different. You made me get Brienne.”

“And you should be thanking me. Doesn’t she always take care of you when you do one of those shitty real estate shows you hate?”

Jaime shrugged. “Yes, they always treat me well, and I get a good trailer. But I could negotiate all that myself!”

“Perhaps. But an agent is essential. They field all those terrible gigs you don’t want to do but don’t want to turn down.”

Jaime looked surprised for a moment. “Do they?”

Tyrion nodded. “Ask Brienne next time you see her. She’ll tell you all the shit she turns down flat without even telling you. This is all beside the point, by the way. You’re doing the pilot, and if the network picks it up, you’re committed to one season.”

“Did Brienne already agree to this?”

Tyrion grinned. “Of course. You don’t think even your brother would dare to approach you with an offer without getting her green light, do you?”

“What about my real estate business? I can’t just abandon that.”

“It won’t be that much work. You film an intro thing, looking over the house with Sansa, meeting with the homeowners, they tell you what they want, you make promises you can’t keep. Then you show them a few homes a week until the reno is done. Then Sansa shows them the finished project, you show them the listing for their house as kind of an incentive, showing them what value Sansa has added to the house with the renovations, you reiterate how fabulous the house was that you found them, and then the couple decides.”

“Decides what?”

Tyrion grinned. “Glad you asked. Decides if they’re going to love it...or list it.”

Jaime stared at him blankly again. “The fuck was that?”

Tyrion looked miffed. “The fuck was what?”

“Love it…” Jaime gives a long pause, hands held palms out, face pulled in an exaggeratedly excited expression. “Or list it!” Jaime finally finished, giving a fake toothy grin and rotating his hands back and forth in a showy “ta da!” gesture. “So cheesy.”

“You mark my words,” Tyrion declared, index finger stabbing at the tabletop. “This show is going to be a huge hit.”

Jaime showed up to taping a few days later. Tyrion had decided for the first pilot episode to just throw Sansa and Jaime in without too much rehearsal. “I don’t want it to seem forced,” he’d told Jaime the night before. “Just walk through the house with Sansa and give your honest opinion. And don’t be afraid to contradict her. Really play up the rivalry.”

“Don’t think that’ll be a problem,” Jaime thought as Sansa arrived at the house, walking from around the corner as a camera crew filmed her. The crew had already gotten shots of him waiting moments before. She looked ridiculously good as always in a black suit (jumpsuit? Jaime wasn’t sure what it was called) that she wore over a crisp white T-shirt. The effect was fashionable, yet functional. Just like Sansa’s designs.

A pair of chic leather flats completed the outfit, an inch of bare ankle visible below the pant leg. Long red hair hung over her shoulders. Her makeup was bold and overstated, bright red lip and winged eyeliner. Sansa pushed up her oversized black sunglasses onto the top of her head, her lips curving into a slow smile as she saw Jaime, standing on the sidewalk. He felt an immediate flash of annoyance at her expression.

He tapped on his watch as soon as she got close enough to speak to. “You’re late.”

“I am not,” she replied, in that bratty tone that drove Jaime crazy.

“It’s five minutes after.”

“You’re the one wasting time now, darling.” Sansa swept past Jaime towards the front door, leaving Jaime staring after her. The cameraman stayed with Jaime, who gave the camera an incredulous expression, rolling his eyes. He heard Tyrion in his earpiece.

“Yes, excellent! Love the direct-to-camera stuff.”

Jaime followed Sansa up the main walk. The house was a decent-looking two-story townhouse. Narrow, but stretching back farther than it was wide. Jaime followed Sansa in through the front door.

“Seriously? What a mess,” he muttered.

Sansa shot him a sharp look. “What?” she asked defensively.

“This is a terrible space.” Jaime pointed out the narrow closet and opened the door, which immediately blocked the front door. “And this staircase is hideous, looks like someone started ripping up the carpet and quit halfway through.”

The stairs leading up to the second floor were half uncarpeted, and Jaime could see random staples left in the steps.

“That’s such an easy fix, though,” Sansa shook her head as she shut the closet door so they could close the front door, then breezed into the living room.

“And the closet?” he called after her.

“Oh, who cares about a closet!” She examined the living room with satisfaction. “Well, this room is just terrible.”

Jaime swept his gaze over the beautiful hard-wood floors, floor to ceiling windows on one wall that drenched the room in light, and the other walls lined with bookcases. “Sarcasm is not becoming,” he intoned.

“Uh huh,” Sansa replied with a smug smile.

Jaime followed Sansa to a large eat-in kitchen, and winced at the beautiful countertops, dark wood cabinets, and dining room table next to another set of floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Just look at that backsplash,” Sansa gushed.

“Backsplash,” Jaime scoffed. “There’s more to a house than a backsplash. What must the heating bill be like, all those windows?”

Sansa shot him a dark look. “You just have to find something to criticize, don’t you?”

Jaime shrugged. “Just being realistic.”

“Great, keep swinging,” Tyrion chirped in his ear.

At the back of the kitchen was a sliding glass door. Jaime burst into laughter. “A porch, if you can call it that.”

Sansa quirked up her mouth, examining the rotting wood. “It’s not that bad.”

Jaime scoffed. “It’s a gut job. But hey, you could save the wood for a fire pit!”

“Let’s look upstairs.”

Jaime followed Sansa back to the front entryway, the cameraman trailing behind them. “Watch for staples,” Jaime warned as Sansa trotted up the stairs.

“Master bedroom,” Sansa announced as she pushed open the first door. “Decent size. Nice view.”

“It’s fine,” Jaime shrugged. He strode to one of two doors, opened it to a small closet. “Closet is tiny. Where’s his clothes?”

“The dresser? How should I know?”

“What about his suits?”

“Not everyone wears a suit, snob.”

Jaime turned to glare at Sansa, but she was already opening the other door, leading to the master bathroom. Jaime barely repressed a gleeful whoop. “This is positively horrendous.”

The tub was ancient and decrepit. The wallpaper was peeling, and the sink was rusty and small, almost no counter space. The floor was covered in cheap, discolored laminate that was curling at the corners.

“I can fix this, no problem.”

“It’s tiny and I feel like I'm going to contract something just standing here.”

“Can we move on please?” Sansa asked icily.

Jaime held up his hands, inviting Sansa to walk past him. When she did, he smirked to the camera.

“Yes, good,” Tyrion praised.

They came to a second bedroom. “Guest room, very nice,” Sansa nodded at the smallish bedroom.

“It’s small,” Jaime noted with satisfaction to look of displeasure on Sansa’s pretty face.

“It’s a guest room. How big does it need to be?”

“Well what if they want kids?”

“Well what if they adopt a football team,” Sansa responded sarcastically. “I can’t be responsible for ‘what ifs’.”

At the very end of the top floor was another bathroom, which wasn’t terrible, but oddly shaped, with a large curtain pulled across a little nook.

“Smells weird,” Jaime lied, just to needle Sansa, who heaved a deep sigh.

“It does not smell weird.”

Jaime gave a dramatic sniff. “Is that mold?”

Sansa glared at him. “You’re hilarious,” she replied in a deadpan voice.

“What’s that?” Jaime pointed to the curtain. Sansa moved it aside, and actually giggled.

“Laundry space? In the bathroom?” Jaime laughed.

Sansa finally let her mask slip just a tiny bit. “What in the world? Who puts a laundry room in the guest bath?”

“That’s how you get them to leave early,” Jaime joked. “Make your guests do the washing.”

“Would that get you to leave?” Sansa asked in a fake chipper voice, giving Jaime a sarcastic, yet oddly beguiling smile.

“Let’s go.”

Tyrion sang Jaime’s praises in the car on the way to the second location, a wine bar, that got a promo, of course, where Sansa and Jaime would discuss the house with the homeowners and get their lists of what needed to be fixed in the current house, what the new house would have to have to get them to move, and their budgets.

Jaime had to admit he was feeling a bit competitive. Growing up with two siblings, one of them a twin, will do that to you, he supposed. He knew it should be about the homeowners and giving them what they wanted, but he also wanted to win.

“What is it between you two, anyway. I know you worked together before, but why the animosity? I really couldn’t have picked two people who so obviously loathe each other more.”

Jaime scoffed. “We did one house together. I sold this beautiful farmhouse-style to the Greyjoys. This house was unbelievable. It was on Visenya’s Hill. It was a five minute walk to their kid’s school and the farmer’s market. It had five bedrooms, four bathrooms including an en suite the size of my office, it was move-in ready and modern, redone kitchen. At least, so we thought. The inspection comes back that the kitchen wasn’t done up to code. Some wiring thing. It’s no big deal, the Greyjoy’s get some money knocked off the price in exchange for having to redo it.”

Tyrion nodded. “And they wanted Sansa to do it?”

“Yes, the wife knew Sansa from when they both lived up north, said Sansa was the only one she trusted to design her kitchen.”

“Why did this even involve you? Aren’t you normally out of the picture by the time the reno starts?”

“Well, Mrs. Greyjoy, Jeyne, says she won’t finish the sale of the old house until the new one is done. Says she won’t move into a new home that’s not done, and we can’t sell the old house until they move out. So I’m in limbo waiting on this kitchen reno, trying to keep buyers interested in the old house.”

“Did it go over schedule or something?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Over budget?”

“Well, it was under, actually,” Jaime admitted.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Well, I had to work with her. The Greyjoys asked me to keep in communication with Sansa while the reno was being done, so the house could be sold as soon after completion as possible. And she’s just so-” Jaime cut off.

“Capable? Inspired? Hard-working?” Tyrion suggested.

“Impossible to please, irritating, exacting. I swear, she could have been done a lot sooner, but the tile had to be just right, and it took six tries to get the perfect shade of seafoam for the walls, and the backsplash had to be redone because the worker messed it up the first time. Fucking backsplash.”

“Were the Greyjoys pleased?”

Jaime crossed his arms, staring out the window. “Yes,” he grumbled.

“So, impossible to please, irritating, exacting, client-pleasing,” Tyrion counted off on his fingers. “Attractive.”

Jaime rolled his eyes. “That’s not the point.”

Tyrion did his best impression of innocence. “Whatever you say, big brother.”

The homeowners were familiar to Jaime, but not well-known: Margaery, Tyrion’s assistant, and Bronn, who turned out to be a carpenter. Jaime really wanted to ask him how he could claim to be a carpenter with that sorry excuse for a back porch, but held his tongue.

Jaime, Sansa, and the homeowners settled around a table in a quiet corner of an up-scale restaurant, each with a glass of wine in front of them. “So tell us about your home,” Sansa began, taking a sip from her wine and focusing her attention on Margaery. She must have assumed Margaery was the one who wanted to stay.

Margaery, a very pretty, pert brunette who was frankly far out of Bronn’s league, (Jaime couldn’t help but wonder how that guy had landed such a beautiful and intelligent wife) immediately dispelled that notion.

“Where do I even start?” she asked, rolling her eyes to the heavens in a silent invocation of the Seven. “The stairs. Pretty much all of the projects in that house. They drive me crazy! He did a wonderful job on the kitchen and living room before we moved in. But now we live there and it’s like he’s lost all motivation to fix all of the problem areas!”

“I haven’t lost motivation! I’ll get to it.”

“We have lived there for four years! You are clearly not getting to it! The stairs have been like that for two years!”

“That’s no reason to move. This house is fine! All right, it has some projects, but it’s strong. It’s got good bones.”

“Bones?” Margaery shook her head in disbelief. “What about the bathrooms?”

“I’ll fix them!”

“You’ve been saying that for years.”

“Well, I’ve been a bit busy.”

“You’ve been busy for four years?’

“Yes!”

Jaime intervened, at Tyrion’s urging in his earpiece.

“Don’t worry, we’re here to help! One way or another, we’re going to end the daily debates. Tell me what you need in a new home, and we’ll start from there.”

They went over the list of must-haves to move, which included a two bedroom (apparently kids were not anywhere in the immediate future) house as close as possible to their current neighborhood, with a back porch, an en suite with a big tub, large closet, preferably walk-in, with a budget of 400,000 dragons. The current house was valued at 320,000.

“That’s a good budget, but houses in your neighborhood are neither plentiful nor inexpensive. But I’m sure I can find something that’s going to work for you better than your current home, with no ongoing projects, and no ‘honey-do’ list,” he inclined his head to Bronn, trying to appeal to him.

“I think you have a beautiful home,” Sansa countered. “Obviously it needs some work to make it perfect. I know what I would work on, but what do you want me to fix?”

Margaery gives Sansa a frankly impossible list: replace the back porch, finish the stairs, redo the master bath and the guest bath, relocate the laundry.

“And what’s my budget?”

“50,000 dragons,” Margaery reports. Jaime chuckled quietly to himself. She was sunk, with that budget.

Sansa’s voice was warm and understanding, with a certain steely realism underneath. “That’s not a huge budget, but I’m sure I can make some key improvements to your home, that’s going to really improve the function of your house. And when I’m done, you’re going to love it,” she smiled warmly at Bronn and Margaery, delivering Tyrion’s line perfectly, to the Imp’s audible glee.

“Absolutely not. There’s no way this house can work for you. You need something updated and modern. I’m going to find you the perfect house, and when I do, the only thing you’re going to say about your current house is ‘list it’!” Jaime replied confidently.

The director called cut and Tyrion appeared from around the corner.

“Excellent! Well done,” he shook hands with Bronn and Margaery, thanking them for being his guinea pigs.

“If I get some home renovation out of it, I’ll be very happy!” Margaery smiled as Tyrion pulled up a chair and stole Jaime’s glass of wine.

“I was drinking that!” Jaime protested.

“You’ll live. So, I just wanted to go over a brief schedule with you while I have you here. Sansa, how long will renovations take?”

“I’d have to go over it with my contractor to be sure, but I’m guessing 3-4 weeks.”

“Great. Bronn and Margaery are going to return home and pack up and get out of there. You’ll be able to start with the contractor tomorrow. We’ll film all of that, of course. Jaime, I’m sending the crew with you back to your office to film you looking for houses. Not much, just simple stock shots, on the phone, walking a few streets.”

Jaime made a face. “Trust me, it’ll look good when we cut it all together,” Tyrion assured him.

Jaime shrugged. “You’re the expert, I guess.”

“Margaery, Bronn, we’ll contact you once Jaime has some houses to show you. We’ll aim for 3 a week. We’ll film the whole thing, though we may not cut all of them into the episode. Sansa will keep us all updated with the status of the renovations. We’ll ask you to return to your house once a week for Sansa to give you project updates and film your reactions. Any questions?”

Margaery and Bronn both shook their heads. “No, we’re just excited for you to get started!”

“We’re excited too! Thank you both, you’re done for today.” Tyrion turned to Jaime and Sansa. “You on the other hand, have a few more bits to film. We’re going to film you walking down the sidewalk outside. You’ll speak directly to the camera, and give your honest impressions of what the homeowners expect, with the budget you’ve been given.”

Over the next few weeks, Jaime showed the couple many different houses. The first was within their budget and in their neighborhood, but had a few issues. Bathrooms were small and not updated, the kitchen had a few problems, laundry was in the basement. The second house was in their neighborhood and perfect for them, but out of their budget. After that, Bronn and Margaery gave him permission to look outside of their neighborhood.

Jaime didn’t hear much about what was going on with Sansa and the renovations, but he heard dribs and drabs from the homeowners, especially Margaery. When he showed them an amazing second floor laundry room, complete with a sink, Margaery complained to Bronn that Sansa wasn’t giving them a laundry room overhaul.

“She’s not?” he asked, voice full of incredulity, despite his inner monologue that, of course she wasn’t. Where was there room for a whole laundry room?

“No, she says there’s no room and no money in the budget,” Margaery pouted.

“You’re being unfair to Sansa,” Bronn defended her, “it was a long list, there just wasn’t enough money. She’ll make it look nice.”

“It’s not Sansa’s fault, but it’s a sign that your house just can’t work for you,” Jaime reasoned. Margaery agreed, and he finished showing the house.

Finally, after three weeks, Jaime found them the perfect house. He found one in their neighborhood, just a little bit over their budget, that had a great first floor: living room, kitchen, back porch, even a workspace out back for Bronn’s carpentry. The second floor had a beautiful main bedroom with a big soaker tub, although the guest bedroom and bathroom were smaller and the main floor powder room was not nearly as nice as the en suite.

Margaery balked at the extra project, but relented if Bronn would promise to finish the bathroom before they move in, she would consider it. She also complained that the laundry room was small, but then Jaime pointed out that they weren’t getting any laundry room at home.

Jaime’s part was complete, and a few days later, he got word that the renovations at the current house were finished. It was time to film the finale.

Jaime sat with Tyrion in the production tent they had hastily set up in the front yard, with monitors that showed the filming being done inside. Jaime had to admit, she’d done a great job. The closet door in the front hall had been replaced with a door that could slide sideways, so it didn’t block the front door. The back porch was beautiful and well-crafted, decorated with lovely deck furniture, miles away from the old wicker chairs the porch had been furnished with previously. Due to unforeseen issues with the back porch, she hadn’t been able to provide a downstairs powder room, but Jaime knew that had been a long shot.

Upstairs, the guest bathroom had been spruced up with new finishings, and a new, stackable washer and dryer were hidden behind sound-dampening curtains. It was still an eye-sore, but better than it had been, and slightly more tucked away.

The major change came in the master bedroom. The closet had been reconfigured to fit everyone’s clothes, though not expanded. The fixtures in the master bathroom had been rearranged to maximize space, fitting in a roomy walk-in shower, a wider sink, and even a soaker tub. Not as big as the one in the house Jaime had shown them, but just large enough.

After Sansa was done presenting the changes, it was Jaime’s cue. He knew just what to say.

“Sansa truly did an unbelievable job here. But I want you to remember the house I showed you. It was in your neighborhood and it checked all the boxes. Back porch, first floor powder room, a gorgeous master bedroom and en suite, that is far larger and more luxurious than anything you can have here. I have one more listing to show you, and it’s your own.”

He handed them a sheet of paper. “That’s the new value of your home with the renovations that have been done. Your house is now worth 390,000. That is very close to the value of the house I showed you. A simple negotiation, at which I am expert, will easily close that gap. Let us know when you’ve made your decision.”

He retired to the kitchen with Sansa while Margaery and Bronn discussed the house. Jaime side-eyed Sansa, who was wearing a lovely blue dress today, the same shade as her eyes and the walls of the master bathroom.

“How many times did you change your mind about the tile?” he couldn’t help sniping.

“Oh, still got your knickers in a twist about that? And how much over budget was the new house?”

Jaime tried not to get defensive. “What happened to that first floor powder room?”

“It’s not really necessary anyway.”

“So when they entertain, their guests have to go up to the second floor to go to the bathroom? And presumably do some laundry? And who are you to decide what is necessary in  _ their _ home?”

Sansa paused dramatically, raising one silky red eyebrow. “The designer,” she replied in her best “isn’t it obvious” voice.

The homeowners signalled that they were ready, and Jaime and Sansa joined them on the back deck.

“So, decision made?” Jaime asked, per Tyrion’s instructions.

“It is,” Bronn confirmed.

“So are you going to love it?” Sansa asked.

“Or are you going to list it?”

Margaery had already been coached by Tyrion. “We are going to…” room for a dramatic pause that would no doubt be cut longer with shots of Sansa, Jaime, Margaery, Bronn, the contractor Tormund, perhaps. Then she finally put him out of his misery. “Love it.”

Jaime’s jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me? The master bath! The laundry room! The powder room!”

“That was another to-do,” Margaery reminded him. “We’re just so happy with the function Sansa gave us, and I can see us being very happy here. With no more projects!”

“I’m so happy for you. Enjoy your home!” Sansa gushed, embracing Margaery.

Jaime shook hands with both Margaery and Bronn and congratulated them with a smile, keeping his disappointment in check.

After, Sansa and Jaime stood on the front lawn as Tyrion oversaw the deconstruction of the recording tent. Tyrion had already assured Jaime he wouldn’t be present for filming normally, that this was just a special occasion for the filming of the first episode. He would choose an assistant producer to be on-site for filming in the future. Jaime thought Tyrion looked gleeful as he chatted on the phone with someone at the studio, Jaime assumed.

Sansa turned to Jaime, one hand on her waist. “Buy you a drink? There’s a nice bar just a block away.”

Jaime shrugged, managing a bitter smile. “Sure, why not?”

They walked in silence most of the way. Halfway to the bar, Jaime broke the silence. “That first day when we met the homeowners, did you think Margaery was the one who wanted to stay?”

Sansa raised her gaze to him in surprise. “Of course not.”

“Then why did you cozy up to her?”

Sansa shrugged. “Not sure if that’s what I’d call it, but if that is what I did, it was smart. She’s the one whose mind I had to change, not his.”

They arrived at the bar, took two stools at the end. Jaime ordered a whiskey, Sansa ordered a martini. After their drinks arrived, Sansa turned to Jaime.

“So, you really still hate me, huh?”

Jaime took a sip of the good whiskey to cover. “I don’t hate you,” he replied, emphasizing the “hate”.

“Well, I think it’s cute you get all hot and bothered. If I’d known tile was enough to drive you wild, I would have changed my mind a few more times. Of course, you’ve got a good enough memory to recall that it wasn’t me, but your client who changed her mind about the tiling. Several times. And since the tile hadn’t been laid yet, it made almost no difference to the schedule to switch it out for the tile she did want. And it only happened once, not the dozen times you enjoy insinuating.”

“I don’t remember that,” Jaime replied, though he couldn’t help giving her a gruff smile that belied his words.

Sansa took another sip of her drink. “Well, Tyrion’s assured me the show will be a hit. You ready to work together again?”

Jaime shrugged. “It was actually kind of fun. I know Podd really enjoyed it. He kept asking if he was going to be on camera.”

Sansa laughed. “I know, Ygritte is definitely going to pester me to get to be on the show. She said she does as much work as Tormund, and she’s twice as pretty.”

Jaime snorted with laughter in the middle of sipping his drink. After a few coughs, Jaime had to agree. “She is at least two times as pretty as Tormund, you’re right. I didn’t know you were still working with the redheads.”

“They’ve been with me a long time.” Sansa shot back the rest of her drink. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair. Looking forward to kicking your ass again,” she said with a grin, dropping a gold dragon for her drink.

Jaime scoffed. “Not a chance.”

Sansa walked away a few steps, then turned back to Jaime. “Oh, by the way, want to know what Ygritte and Podd have nicknamed the show?”

“What?”

“Loathe It or Level It.” She flashed him one more dazzling smile, then left.


	2. Stannis and Selyse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stannis and Selyse are the next couple, with a specific list of must-haves for the security of their home. Sansa and Jaime share another drink, with disastrous results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sansa: 1 Jaime: 0**

Sansa stood at the front door of a beautiful sprawling house that she would have called a ranch house if not for the small second floor. She tapped her foot impatiently. She turned to the camera. “Lannister’s late.”

No one bothered to remind her she had been late to the first home viewing. She caught sight of Jaime walking down the street.

‘You’re late,” she protested as soon as he was within hearing range. She appreciated the indignant look on his face, eyebrows crinkled in the middle, jaw dropped.

“Are you kidding me? I’m two minutes late!”

Sansa enjoyed putting on an air of disdain. “Yeah. You’re two minutes late. Time is money, let’s go.”

Sansa strode up the walk to the front door, enjoying the click-clack of her black stiletto heels on the flagstones. “Beautiful exterior!” she observed.

“It’s a little dated.”

“Nonsense, it’s classic!”

In the entryway, Sansa inspected the first room. It was gorgeous, airy and full of light. Sansa took a deep breath and exhaled happily. “This is so beautiful! Look at the light, look at the ceilings!”

Jaime appeared peevishly at her elbow. “It’s too bright.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a sore loser!”

“Loser?” Jaime scoffed.

Sansa didn’t reply, headed to the dining room on the right. Behind it was a beautiful eat-in kitchen. Sansa didn’t even say a word, just gave Jaime haughty knowing looks.

“Too spread out,” was Jaime’s pessimistic take.

From the kitchen, they passed into the living room, that spread from the front of the house to the back, a gorgeous open concept, friendly, airy, open. It even had a fireplace.

Jaime stood in the living room, staring up at the vaulted ceilings. “Why am I here?”

Sansa stood next to him and sighed. “I often ask that same question.” Jaime glared at her, and Sansa replied with a sweet smile.

They walked down a short hallway to the bedrooms. There were three, with a bathroom at the beginning of the hallway. It was not an impressive bathroom.

“Gut job,” Jaime remarked.

“It just needs a little updating.”

The next bedroom was a guest room, small, and full of clutter, exercise equipment, toys. “This looks like a catch-all room.”

“It’s a garbage room,” Jaime remarked.

“Just needs some organization.”

The next room was a girl’s room, small but tidy.

“She’s cleaner than her parents,” Jaime joked.

Last was the master bedroom. “Oh dear,” Sansa said at the entrance.

The room was small. Even Sansa had to admit that. The master bath was tiny. And the closet was miniscule, as Jaime took full pleasure in pointing out.

“Well, now I know why I’m here,” he smiled with self-satisfaction. “You can’t just wave your magic wand and turn this into a bigger room, can you?”

“No, but I can rearrange the space they have to make it more functional.” Sansa refused to admit defeat.

“I can give them all the functional space they’ll ever need!”

“Can you give me a little space from you? Thanks.”

Sansa left the master bedroom and returned to the front hall, opening a door across from the front door. She tried not to make a face at the narrow, cramped, dismally dark staircase leading to the second floor. Jaime was practically crowing by the time they reached the small, unfinished attic.

“Well, there’s lots of space up here,” Sansa remarked. “Lots of potential for storage.”

“Lots of room for potential problems,” Jaime beamed.

“You just love to poke holes, don’t you?”

Jaime shrugged. “I’m a realist.”

“The only real thing you are is a pain in the-”

“Now, now,” Jaime interrupted. “Families are watching!”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Let’s go.”

Sansa knew she was in a tough spot. Her view on her chances dimmed as the couple arrived and began talking, with the cameras filming unobtrusively over their shoulders.

Stannis seemed a little stern, and Sansa could tell right away he was not on her side. The wife, Selyse, was nodding along with Sansa, sympathetic and eager. Definitely Sansa’s ally.

To move, they wanted a four bedroom house, with a man cave (Sansa shuddered internally at the phrase), in the same school district, with three bathrooms, or at least two bathrooms and a powder room for guests. That list made Sansa feel a little better, as did the 450,000 budget. The current house was only valued at 380,000.

Sansa was less enthusiastic after getting her list, which was nigh-on impossible. Expand the master bedroom and bath, create a bedroom in the attic area, as well as a bathroom, re-do and expand the staircase, and most jaw-dropping of all, they wanted the new bedroom and bathroom to be built in an expanded space over the other bedrooms, instead of the existing space over the living room and kitchen.

“That’s a really big project. Do you mind if I ask why the bedroom can’t go in the existing attic space?”

“Well, children shouldn’t be on the ground floor, it’s not safe,” was Stannis’s reply.

Sansa looked from Stannis to Selyse, who was rolling her eyes to the heavens. “It’s not?”

“Of course not,” Stannis replied, looking perplexed. “Do you know how easy it would be for someone to break in through the window and snatch her away.”

Ignoring the literal thousands of King’s Landing children who slept on first floor bedrooms without being kidnapped, Sansa continued. “But that doesn’t explain why the bedroom has to be over the master bedroom. Why can’t we just complete the attic space as it is?”

“I need to be right underneath her so that I can hear what goes on in the room. Second floor is no guarantee, someone could still break in. If I’m below her, then I can keep tabs on what goes on up there.

Sansa turned to Selyse, who fixed Sansa with an expression of deep dismay that spoke to a long-suffering argument. When Sansa started to ask her a question, the older woman just shook her head and held out her hand.

“Don’t try to understand it, I’ve tried for ten years to understand him, and I never will.”

Sansa decided to take the path of least resistance. “Ok. What’s my budget?”

“120,000.”

Sansa nodded, at least it wasn’t shoe-string. “That’s a generous budget. I’m going to be able to complete a lot of those items, and really give you a home that works for you and your family. When I’m done, you’re going to love it.”

“Sansa’s going to make your house look very pretty,” Jaime jumped in, and even though this part was more or less scripted, she still bristled at the term ‘pretty’. “But this house is never going to be able to give you everything you need. That’s why, when I find you the perfect home, the only thing you’re going to say about this house is ‘list it’.”

Sansa was on the phone with Ygritte immediately after meeting the homeowners. She sat in her car, her discrete lapel microphone having been removed, and the cameraman dismissed, and griped to her design assistant.

“Can you believe it? ‘Sansa’s going to make your house look very pretty’,” she mocked in a deep macho voice, then returned to her normal alto. “The nerve of that guy. Like that’s all we do! Fluff pillows and pick out paint chips.”

“He’s such a snob. All the realtor’s are, you know that.” Ygritte was ever a realist, and often responded to Sansa’s complaints with a firm hand. Sansa liked that about the younger woman. She could always depend on Ygritte to listen to her complain for a little bit, then turn her back to the task at hand.

“I can’t wait to shut him up by transforming that attic. Think we have enough to do it?” Ygritte asked.

“I think so, I’m just going to go meet with Tormund now. I’ll meet you in an hour at the house, and we can go over the plans? Where something cute, the cameras will be there. Tyrion promised you’ll be in the show this time.”

“Please, I always wear something cute,” was Ygritte’s cheeky reply.

At the house, Sansa met with Tormund, a hulking giant of a man towering at two meters tall. He had bright red hair that stuck up wildly, as well as a huge bushy beard. Tormund had been known to scare small children, but Sansa knew he was really a sweet, gentle giant.

She took him on the tour of the house, after they were mic’ed up, the cameraman following. “Living room, dining room, kitchen. We’re not touching any of it.”

“Works for me,” Tormund said, looking appreciatively at the very tall ceilings.

“The guest bedroom. Clearly, quite awful. What we’re actually going to do is knock down this wall, and expand the master bedroom this way by at least six feet.”

“Then this will be a closet.”

Sansa shrugged. “As long as it’s big enough to still be called a bedroom, I’m fine with it. It’s the only way to get more space for their closet and master bath.”

They left the guest room and entered the master bedroom. “They want more space here, and the only way to give that to them is to gut the guest bedroom. We’ll expand the master closet to a normal size, and then give them a decent sized bathroom. Shower, commode, sink. Nothing fancy, and all the fixtures will stay where they are. I’m thinking maybe a double sink and it’s going to be a good-sized shower. The extra space will make this a decent-sized master bedroom.”

Across the hall, Sansa opened the door to the little girl Shireen’s room.

Tormund gasped excitedly at the sight of the green and blue decorated room, with posters of solar systems and astronomical phenomena on the walls. “This is so precious! What are we doing here?”

“Nothing. I just thought you would like it,” Sansa said, smiling at Tormund’s lit-up expression.

“I do, what a cool kid. Ok, back to work.”

Sansa opened the door to the guest bathroom that Shireen would share. “This needs some updating. Everything’s staying exactly where it is, though, we’re just going to get a new sink7 and faucet, new shower and tub, new floors.”

“Sounds good. This is starting to sound way too easy.”

Sansa sighed and pulled an overly exasperated face. “Why would you say that? You’re jinxing it. Come on, we’re not done.”

She led Tormund back to the main entrance, then opened the door to the staircase. Tormund looked up it dubiously.

“I don’t think I’ll fit.”

Sansa smiled. “You’ll fit! But that’s the first complication. We need to open and expand this stairway.”

Tormund snorted, then began to chuckle, which grew into a deep roar of laughter that came from his belly. He held his sides as he let his head fall back, peals of laughter echoing off the twelve-foot ceilings. He finally tapered off, wiping his eyes before placing one huge, beefy hand on her shoulder.

“Sansa, dearest. You know I would do anything for you. I cannot do that,” he trailed off into laughter again.

Sansa was laughing now too, caught by the bug of his infectious joy at her expense. “That’s very mean of you. Will you please try?”

“Oh yeah,” Tormund replied, trying to pull his expression into something serious and respectable. He betrayed himself with a giggle. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”

Sansa rolled her eyes and began to climb the stairs. True to her word, Tormund did fit, though he had to duck and compact his shoulders as much as possible.

“In all seriousness, we might be at least able to take out that wall and put in a bannister. But you know as well as I we can’t actually widen it. I’ll see what King’s Landing building code has to say, but you’d best just get them used to the idea of that not happening.”

“Well, I at least want to be able to blame King’s Landing. So, up here, they want us to build a bedroom. Shireen is going to have her room up here, and they want a bathroom as well.”

Tormund stroked his beard thoughtfully. “It’s not impossible. The laundry is directly down below here, right?” He moved a few feet away, to the utilities she had pointed out that stood right beside the entrance to the staircase.

“Right, but they don’t want that here.” Sansa took a deep breath. “They want us to expand out over the rest of the house. The homeowner wants Shireen’s bedroom right over his.”

Tormund frowned. “And how many millions of gold dragons is this budget?”

Sansa cracked a smile. “None. 120,000 dragons. Please just say you’ll try?”

“The odds are about as good as me becoming Head Septon, but I'll try.”

Sansa clasped her hands together in front of her. “Thank you, Tormund. Try for the expansions, but plan for the bedroom here and bathroom here, so we’ll have a backup.”

Ygritte showed up then, and Tormund flirted with her, badly and overbearingly, the way he’d flirted with Sansa when he’d first met her. They both had brushed it off as over-friendliness on the Northman’s part. Ygritte had informed Sansa years ago that it was really their red hair he loved. “He’s obsessed with marrying a red-head and having ginger babies,” she told Sansa over a bottle of wine once.

Sansa let Tormund rattle on for a bit, then cut him off. “Tormund, planning office, now!” then reclaimed her design assistant.

Ygritte certainly had worn something cute, dressed in a short denim skirt, a pair of sheer silver tights, and a white scoop-necked T-shirt. Her red hair was wildly curly, contrasting with Sansa’s own soft waves. Sansa showed her around, and Ygritte took careful notes on her tablet. She used a design program, already uploaded with the home’s current plans, and used a little stylus to move walls, draw in furniture. They discussed more design details, like color, furniture styles, most of which Sansa knew would be cut out of the final show. In the attic, Ygritte had a wonderful idea to hang little stars and planets from the sloped ceilings, and paint the roof like a beautiful night sky.

Sansa left the meetings feeling uplifted and energized. Maybe she would win this one after all.

The first blow to her spirits came a week later, when Tormund informed her that building code would not allow them to change the staircase. “It would have been a long-shot any way, budget-wise, but the staircase isn’t built to modern code. The clearance isn’t high enough. If I make any changes to it, I’ll have to rip it all out and build it to code, and we don’t have the budget for that.”

“No, we don’t,” Sansa agreed, running her fingers through her hair to get it out of her eyes. She looked down at her plans instead of the camera lens that felt like it was inches from her face. “What about the expansion upstairs.”

“Yeah, are they absolutely married to that idea?”

Sansa sighed, rolling her eyes. “Yes. The father insists it’s safer. He doesn’t want his daughter on the ground floor, and he also says he needs the bedroom right over his so he can hear her at night.”

“Well, he absolutely is right about safety. Do you know how easy it is to break-”

“Tormund, I’m going to interrupt what I’m sure is a perfectly fascinating safety explanation on raising children in Westeros, but can you just give me an update on the expansion?”

“It actually is good to go.”

Sansa’s jaw dropped open in spite of herself. “What? Seriously?”

“No, just kidding. Can’t be done. Planning commission says no.”

“Fine, proceed with Plan B. I’ll get the happy job of letting the homeowners know.”

The next day they filmed a segment with Stannis and Selyse. She showed them the plans to knock down the wall and expand the closet and master bath. Stannis objected, of course, because the guest room would be smaller.

“But Shireen’s bedroom will be the new guest room, and this can be your new man cave,” she said with a smile, wondering internally why men couldn’t just use the living room like everyone else in the world. But that seemed to make Stannis happy. She went over the changes for the guest bath, then took them upstairs, where the walls were already being put up for the bathroom.

“What about the staircase,” Stannis asked.

“I absolutely cannot do it,” Sansa replied firmly, and explained about the building code. When asked about the expansion to put the attic bedroom over the master bedroom, Sansa similarly demurred, citing the building code.

Stannis was adamant and slightly pig-headed in his response. Selyse stuck up for Sansa, declaring the improvements to be very admirable.

“We knew it would be tough,” she reminded Stannis, who gave Sansa another lecture about child-rearing safety.

Sansa nodded sympathetically. “I know it’s not what you hoped,” she said when she managed to get a word in edgewise, “but it really is going to be a lovely bedroom. I think Shireen is going to love it! And you’re still getting your master bath, the expanded closet, and the man cave.”

In the end, Stannis was begrudgingly optimistic, and the renovations continued without a hitch. There was a problem with the guest bathroom’s plumbing, but the amount needed to fix it was luckily covered under her contingency budget.

She’d heard, through Ygritte who exchanged information with Podd, that Jaime had found them a beautiful house, under budget, in the same school district, four bedroom, three bathrooms, a man cave, and the two-story layout that Stannis wanted, with Shireen’s bedroom above Stannis’s. Sansa held onto a small crumb of hope, though. Maybe Selyse would like the changes so much, she wouldn’t want to move.

On the last day of filming, she walked the couple through the renovations, showed them the expanded master bedroom, the roomy closet and expanded master bath. Ygritte had done a wonderful job with the styling, a lovely slate grey in the bathroom made the room look stately, just slightly masculine, while softer touches like peach-colored towels and accents made the room look warm and cozy. Upstairs, Sansa showed them the lights they had added to make the staircase look brighter, and then the new bedroom, with a starry sky that Ygritte had hand-painted, using glow-in-the-dark paint for stars. Little figurines of planets, moons, and spaceships hung from thin wires from the ceiling. The bathroom was done in blues and purples, and while not large, was just right for a child, Sansa thought.

She ended up adding 180,000 to the value of the house. She stood in the kitchen as Jaime reminded them of the beautiful house he had found, with a man cave (Sansa shuddered at that phrase) with the huge master bathroom that had the amazing soaker tub. That was when Sansa knew she was sunk.

Jaime came and stood next to her as the couple talked it over.

“Got your concession speech written yet?” Jaime asked smugly.

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Hardly! I don’t think they’re going to move,” she lied.

“Are you serious?”

“Of course! I know you offered them man caves and soaker tubs, but really, why would they choose that over the home they’ve grown to love. They’re going to think of all of the memories they’ve built her, and they’ll decide to stay.”

Jaime shook his head. “Unreal,” he murmured.

When Selyse told them that they were going to list it, Sansa was not at all surprised, and congratulated the couple warmly on their new home. After they finished filming, Sansa shook hands again with Stannis and Celyse, thanked them again.

“Oh Sansa, I thought the attic was lovely, by the way. Who did that painting on the ceiling?” Selyse pulled Sansa aside to ask as she was getting her lapel mic removed.

“My assistant, Ygritte.”

“Well, it was lovely. Shame about Stannis’s strange security compulsion.” She smiled and rolled her eyes and Sansa laughed.

Sansa left the house, followed by a trail of assistant producers and techs carrying camera equipment. She stopped on the first step, causing a mild traffic jam behind her. She frowned and moved on down the front walk to the street. Why was Jaime leaning against her car?

“That’s my car,” she pointed out, clicking the button on the key fob to unlock it.

“I know. Thought I might buy you a drink, since you so gallantly treated me last time.” He shrugged. “Seems only fair.”

She shrugged. “All right. Where to?”

“You want to follow me?”

Sansa nodded, sliding into her car as she watched Jaime slouch back to his own car.

“Is Jaime Lannister actually trying to become my friend?” she asked herself aloud. She chortled at her own joke, and started the care, following Jaime’s ridiculously flashy sports car to a nearby pub.

She found Jaime at a small table in the back.

“I already ordered you a martini.”

“Gin or vodka?” She reached over and folded down the corner of his jacket collar that was stuck up.

Jaime brushed her hand away. “Don’t do that,” he complained. “I couldn’t remember so I got vodka.”

“Well, if you want your collar to look all wrinkly like that, fine. I like gin martinis.”

Jaime peered down at his jacket. “It looks fine. You should drink vodka martinis, they’re better.”

“Well, I guess I can’t blame you for ordering the vodka. Nothing wrong with liking a basic drink.”

Jamie narrowed his eyes at her. “Basic?”

Sansa blinked back at him innocently. “Sure. Basic.”

“You mean that as an insult.”

“Of course not. It’s standard. Default. Reliable. Boring.” She over-pronounced the last word, raising her eyebrows slightly.

The server brought their drinks. “Vodka martini. Whiskey straight.”

Jaime smiled at the server, a flashy toothy grin. “Thank you.”

Sansa felt her eyes narrow. “ _Whiskey, straight_ ,” she mimicked in a sing-song voice. “So pretentious.”

“Don’t make fun of her.”

“I wasn’t making fun of _her_.”

Jaime stared at her for a second. “What’s pretentious?”

“Your drink. Whiskey straight. Order of a man trying to seem interesting.” Sansa took a sip of her own drink and made a face.

“This coming from the girl who can’t drink vodka.”

She bristled. It had started as teasing, but she was starting to get seriously annoyed. “I’m not a girl. And I can drink anything.” She shot back the rest of the drink, slammed the glass back on the table, then stood.

“This has been real fun, let’s never do it again.”

She stormed out, never turning around until she got to her car. The alcohol hit her just then, and she headed down the street. She pulled out her phone, and ordered a car from a rideshare app, heading toward the deli at the corner. She heard a car pull up beside her.

“Look,” Jaime said, slowing down when she stopped walking. She turned toward him, stood waiting for a few seconds.

“Yes? You just going to sit there and stare at me?”

“I’m sorry, all right?”

Sansa turned with an aggrieved groan.

“Are you ok?”

“No, I’m not ok. I’m drunk cause I chugged a martini on an empty stomach because you were being an ass!”

“I can drive you home.”

“Don’t bother, I ordered a ride. It’s on its way.” She turned and resumed stomping down the street.

“Such a baby,” she heard Jaime mutter before pulling away. Sansa swallowed a scream as her app dinged to let her know the driver was on his way. Jaime Lannister was the most infuriating man she’d ever met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! It was a bit of a bitch to write, and I blame Stannis Baratheon for that. Hopefully, the next update will come sooner.
> 
> Who should be the next couple? Leave me a comment if you have any ideas!


	3. Sandor and Isadora

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa renovates the home of Sandor and his mother Isadora. Tensions between Sansa and Jaime have defrosted, and is it possible they're actually becoming friends?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned, this chapter will have a little bit of SanSan, although this work is Jaimsa endgame. I'm not trying to derail the fic, but wanted to build a point for tension and jealousy for later chapters. I feel like there can be place in fanfics for old or past relationships/flirtations, more than just the usual abusive/cruel past relationships that Sansa usually has.
> 
> It's all propelling the plot, trust me! Hope you like it!

For several months, Jaime and Sansa worked without incident. They were cordial, professional, cold. Whenever possible, they let their assistants, Podd for Jaime and Ygritte for Sansa, interact and trade messages.

The feud eventually grew so heated (or frozen, rather) that Tyrion called for a detente. Both parties met with Tyrion at his house for dinner.

Jaime specifically arrived late, on Tyrion’s instructions. “I want her to arrive first, I don’t want her to feel like you have home-field advantage or that I’m playing favorites because you're my brother.”

Jaime scoffed. “If she really thinks you play favorites, she doesn’t know you.”

But Jaime followed Tyrion’s advice, arriving fifteen minutes late. Sansa had kicked off her heels, relaxing on the sofa with her feet tucked up under the skirt of her sea green dress. She looked up, and gazed cooly at Jaime from over the rim of her wine glass. Tyrion looked up as well, and stood up quickly, walking over to his little bar beside the sitting area.

“Ah, Jaime! There you are! What can I get you, I have red, white, gold…”

“Red, please.”

“Of course, of course,” Tyrion murmured, pouring the dark purple liquid into a glass and handing it to his brother.

“Sansa was just telling me everything that is wrong with my house.”

Sansa laughed and dragged a hand through her hair. “Stop, I was not! I actually think it’s gorgeous. Who did it?”

“You don’t think I’m stylish enough to decorate my own home?” Tyrion asked in a mocking voice. “Sansa, I’m hurt.”

Sansa shrugged unconcernedly. “Call it my professional opinion. I can tell when a house is ‘done’.”

“Oberyn did it, actually.”

Sansa raised one silky auburn eyebrow. “Really?” She cast an appraising look around her once more, eyes flicking from the floors, to the walls, to the light fixture in the middle of the room, made of old-fashioned bulbs hanging from thin steel bands, suspended at different heights.

“Do you like it?” Tyrion prodded again.

“I do,” she pronounced, settling back to sip from her glass once more. “I didn’t know he had such a soft touch.”

Jaime sat down across from Sansa, in one of the chairs. He nodded hello to Sansa, somewhat more stiffly than he’d intended. Tyrion quickly picked up the conversation again, telling them about their dinner plans. After both Sansa and Jaime had finished their first glasses of wine, Tyrion broached the subject at hand.

“So, the reason I asked you both here tonight is to discuss the working relationship between you two. It’s been…”

“Tempestuous? Fraught?” Sansa suggested.

“I’m trying to think of a better word than loathing,” Jaime added.

“Strained,” Tyrion finally finished. “And we want to work on that, right? No one’s enjoyed the last few weeks. Have they? Have you?” he asked each one pointedly.

“No,” Sansa admitted, shooting Jaime a sidelong glance.

“No,” Jaime echoed. He felt like a little boy called into the office of a kindly vice principal who was at his wits end.

“Ah, it’s amazing! You agree on something!” Tyrion said, gasping theatrically. Jaime couldn’t help but chuckle.

“So, all I ask is that, in the future, we treat everyone with respect. You don’t have to like each other, you don’t have to be each other’s favorite person. Just, respect. Can we do that?”

“Yes,” Sansa replied, and Jaime agreed.

“Excellent.” Tyrion checked his watch. “My cook is running late, apparently. Let me just check on her.”

Jaime rolled his eyes. Tyrion’s cook, Shae, was also famously his mistress, though how his brother made that arrangement work, Jaime had no idea. He and Sansa might be alone for a while.

For a few moments, they sat in silence, sipping their wine, Sansa still looking about the room. Finally, Jaime decided to break the silence.

“I do want to apologize for how I acted last time we were alone,” Jaime spoke up.

“I would also want to apologize. I don’t know what makes me behave that way.”

Jaime smiled. “I know what you mean. It feels like it starts off innocently enough.”

“Yes! We’re just teasing each other, and then, all of a sudden, I’m angry and I don’t know why!”

“Exactly! And then later I think, ‘I can’t believe I said that!’ Why do we get each other so riled up?”

Sansa smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know. We just have different personalities, I guess. But seriously, next time I start to get rude like that, just, I don’t know, stick your tongue out at me or something.”

Jaime laughed. “Stick my tongue out? Hold old are we?”

Sansa giggled, cheeks flushing prettily. “It’s what my sister used to do to me, I used to be a little pretentious when I was a girl. What should I do when you start to get arrogant and pig-headed.”

Jaime stopped trying to imagine Sansa as a girl, and gasped. “Pig-headed? You can do what my sister did, and flick my ear.”

Sansa’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Yes, she used to do that all the time.” He took a drink. “What is it about sisters and their ability to put you in your place?”

Sansa laughed. “I have no idea. You’d think I would know, being myself a sister.”

“Yes. Divulge the secrets,” Jaime joked.

“I think Tyrion might have drugged us, this is going very well,” Sansa remarked, sipping her wine.

Jaime pulled a face. “Trust me, if he’d drugged us, you’d know.”

Sansa looked about ready to ask what he meant, but just then, Tyrion swept in.

“Sorry about that, dinner is ready.” He showed the way to the dining room.

“Well, you didn’t kill each other,” Tyrion remarked under his breath.

“Course not. She’s really a lovely person. We agreed to remind each other if we start to get under one another one’s skin.”

Tyrion raised an eyebrow. “Thank the Seven!”

  
  


Sansa vowed to start her new working relationship with Jaime on the very next home they started filming that week. Tyrion did send her a text before she was due on set at the new house, reminding her that he still wanted to see some animosity on camera between her and Jaime, just not off.

Sansa arrived at the new house, a camera crew following her, of course. Jaime was standing on the sidewalk out front, looking dapper as always in a dark grey suit with a dark blue tie. Sansa greeted him cordially, then turned to look at the house.

“It is gorgeous!” she pronounced. A two-story home, not overly large, but on a good-sized lot, with beautiful old trees in the front and the back. Dappled light filtered through the trees. Sansa climbed the few steps out front to a large, concrete porch that stretched across the entire front of the house.

“Concrete? That’s a little strange,” Jaime noticed.

“And brick. I think it’s lovely!”

They opened the front door, and Sansa was quickly impressed by the interior. It was clearly an old house, which Jaime was quick to point out, but Sansa didn’t see why that was an immediate disadvantage. The front entryway was large and inviting, immediately opening upon a sitting room to the left, and what appeared to be a dining room to the right, although someone had a computer on the table, and it looked like it was functioning more as an office than a communal space. Sansa also noticed a pull-out couch in what was supposed to be the sitting room, and it looked like someone’s personal effects were scattered about.

“It’s old!” Jaime noticed, bouncing back and forth on the wood floors to demonstrate the creak.

“It’s got character! Look at this open concept! Although, I’m not sure where to go next. Straight, left, or right?”

Immediately in front of the front door was a wide staircase leading up to the second floor, and a hallway leading back to the rest of the house.

“Left, I want to investigate what’s going on in here,” Jaime decided, and Sansa rolled her eyes. Of course he would want to look at the problem area first.

The sitting room on the left actually had another doorway that lead to yet another living room. Jaime pointed out the alarm clock on the side table, as well as stacks of folded laundry on a chair, and a pile of pillows in the corner.

“Is someone living here?”

“Yes, I think the couch is a pull-out.”

“So, there’s some space issues.”

Sansa shrugged, enjoying her role as the contrarian. “Maybe. Maybe they just like sleeping down here.”

Jaime held up his hands, beseeching an invisible audience. “Who wants to live in their sitting room?”

“Maybe that’s why they call it a living room?” Sansa asked dryly. “Let’s go.”

None of the rooms on the first floor had doors, the doorways were far too wide for them. Each doorway was wide enough for Sansa to stand with her arms outstretched, and she could barely touch each door jamb on either side. The sitting room, however, did have sliding doors, cleverly installed into the walls, so that whoever was staying in the front sitting room was at least able to have some privacy.

In the second living room, large windows let in tons of light, more than the front room, where the big oak in the front yard blocked most of the light. Two sofas sat facing a modestly-sized TV, a flat-screen mounted on the wall. It was a very pleasant room, if a little plain for Sansa’s taste.

“This is a nice room, lots of light!” Sansa declared, and Jaime was forced to agree.

They moved on to the kitchen, which was separated from the second sitting room by a wall, so not completely open-concept. The hallway led to the right back up to the front door. Strangely enough, in the small space where the hallway met the doorway from the second sitting room, right before you got to the kitchen, there was a fridge set into the wall.

“That is not the most convenient spot for a fridge,” Jaime observed.

“No, probably not,” Sansa agreed. “On the one hand, very convenient for grabbing a beer while you’re watching TV. But if you’re cooking…” she walked into the kitchen, which was a remarkably sizable room, with a small kitchen table in the corner, and counters running along the left and right walls. A gas stove stood right by the entrance, still plenty of room to come in and out, but…

“You’re cooking here,” Jaime demonstrated, standing in front of the stove. “You’ve got counter space right here, that’s nice. But if you need anything from the fridge, you have to walk one, two, three steps into the hallway. And then if the fridge is open, it blocks the hallway.”

“So it’s got some flow issues. I’m sure I can work that out. These cabinets are gorgeous, though.”

She opened one up, marvelled at how smoothly the hinge worked, how you could let it drop, and it smoothly closed without a bang. “These are hand-made,” she declared. She looked up to see Jaime staring at her like she was an alien. “What?”

“Are you done gushing over cabinetry?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Maybe. What’s that?”

She turned and pointed to a door leading out of the kitchen, at the very back of the house. They discovered a small pantry in its own room on the right, and a sunroom on the left, which opened out onto the back yard. A firepit of brick had been built yards back, by the trees, and a little porch area, also of brick, housed a grill. Several deck chairs were placed on the small porch.

“This looks like a lovely place to have a little party, grill, light a fire on a chilly night. All these trees!” Two more oaks grew in the backyard, so large one couldn’t fit their arms around the trunk.

Jaime grumbled about all the acorns, and Sansa rolled her eyes. “Come on,” she grumbled.

Back in the kitchen, she walked through a much smaller doorway at the front of the room, on the same wall, but opposite from the hallway that led to the front door. This smaller entryway led to the dining room, a good-sized room with a lovely oak table in the center, big enough for six or seven people to sit around.

“Someone works here,” Jaime observed before they made their way full-circle, back to the front door.

“Well, shall we look upstairs?” Sansa asked before heading up.

“These stairs have been refurbished, I think,” she told Jaime as they climbed. “Look at the handrail, it’s beautifully carved!”

On the upper floor, Four door led off of the same landing. Sansa started with the door on the far left. It was a smallish bedroom, big enough for a queen-sized bed, a dresser, a small desk. It was sparsely decorated, and looked to Sansa like a man’s room. She opened the closet and confirmed: a few suits and dress shirts, but mostly T-shirts and a few short-sleeved polos.

“It’s small,” Jaime commented.

The next room was the same size, and appeared to be a woman’s room. A rug on the floor, queen-sized bed, a desk and a chair, a dresser, a modest closet. The third door was the bathroom, which had an old, claw-foot tub, a tiny sink, and a toilet. It was clean, but very cramped.

“How many people live here?” Jaime asked.

“I don’t know, but too many people for this bathroom. There’s almost no counter-space! Oh wait-” Sanse noticed what appeared to be a little shelf, folded against the wall. She undid a hook, and gently lowered the shelf, suspended from the wall by a hinge and chains on either side.

“They added counter space, oh look at that!”

“It was all folded up.”

“Well they’re not living here right now, when they were, they could have it unfolded all the time, and keep their toiletries here. How nice!”

“Why are certain elements of this house well-thought out and expertly crafted, and other parts of it are, well…” he gestured to the cramped room and out-dated fixtures.

“I think someone in this house is a carpenter. If you don’t have a lot of money for renovations, but you are good with wood-working, you do what you can, I guess.” She shrugged.

“Let’s look at the last room.”

This room was smaller than the others, only a twin-bed and a dresser. It appeared to be a girl’s room, there were posters on the wall and lots of fantasy books and figurines on two shelves on the wall over the bed. Sansa opened the tiny closet to find it crammed with dresses, jeans, blouses, and shoes.

“It’s official,” Jaime declared. “They need to move. They have four people living here? And one bathroom? That can’t be pleasant.”

“I disagree, I think it’s a lovely house. They just need-”

“Organization” they both finished at the same time.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” Jaime finished.

“Let’s go. I think I saw a basement door in that hallway.”

Back down the stairs and down the hallway, there was a little door, beside the fridge, under the stairs. Sansa opened the door and peered down into a gloomy, dark basement.

Jaime took a deep exaggerated breath. “Ahhh, smell the mold.”

Sansa leaned over and nudged Jaime. “You go first.”

Jaime rolled his eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am, I hate dark basements.”

Jaime sighed and rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, then stomped down the steps. Sansa followed timidly. The air did smell a little dank, but Sansa didn’t really think there was any mold. It was mostly just small, cramped, and dark.

“I get the feeling my entire budget is going to go towards this basement.”

Jaime turned to her with a wince. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

  
  


Sansa walked into the back room of a local wine bar, very upscale, as always, and her eyes did a funny little job. First, she noticed Tyrion, who spoke her name and walked forward to greet her. Then her eyes jumped to Jaime, standing right beside him. Then, she noticed some kind of half-giant standing behind him, talking to one of the assistant producers, probably about the segment they were going to film. Sansa’s eyes jumped from Tyrion, standing at 4 foot 5 inches, to Jaime, standing just over 6 feet, to the mass behind him, scrapping six and a half feet tall.

He was broad as well, not muscular exactly, but solid and strong. Sansa felt sure he was the one who had built those cabinets, the countertops, the carved staircase. He had a striking face, curly dark hair, strong thick brows, and the most interesting grey eyes Sansa had ever seen.

“Sansa…” Tyrion said. Sansa snapped her gaze towards him.

“Hmmm? Yes?”

“I was just saying we’re going to film the intro now. Can you get mic’ed up?”

“Yes, of course.” She turned and headed to her right.

“Other way.”

“I knew that,” she called confidently, spinning on her heel and heading the other way.

Ygritte came over to talk to Sansa while she was getting fitted for the small lapel mic. “Oh my god, that man is built like a brick mansion.”

Sansa shrugged. “I mean, he’s not bad, I guess.”

“Not bad! I could climb that man like a tree. And I saw you staring.”

“He had interesting eyes,” she admitted, then grinned despite herself.

Ygritte handed Sansa her lipstick and a handheld mirror. Sansa reapplied her lipstick and fluffed her hair. “How do I look?”

“Damn good. Tyrion’s calling you.”

Sansa handed back the lipstick and mirror and stood, turning to face the table the restaurant had set up for them, two chairs on either side. Sansa took her customary spot on Jaime’s left, while the handsome man and another woman in fifties sat down opposite Sansa and Jaime, respectively.

Tyrion appeared at Sansa’s elbow, as a waitress brought glasses of wine. “Sansa, this is Sandor and his mother Isadora.” He turned his head so the homeowners couldn’t see his face and mouthed “behave” before walking away. Sansa took a sip of her wine and smiled at Sandor. He looked slightly embarrassed, but smiled back.

The cameras were rolling. Sansa began, as was customary, including both mother and son in her gaze. “Sandor, Isadora, we just came from reviewing your home. I think it’s lovely, but why don’t you tell us what some of the problem areas are?”

Sandor took a deep breath. “I don’t even know where to start. We need more room, for one thing.”

“I did notice someone appears to be sleeping in that front sitting room,” Sansa prodded.

“That’s me,” Isadora spoke up. Sansa noticed a bit of an accent, Dornish, maybe?

“I noticed there were three bedrooms, though.”

“Yes, mine, my sister Elena’s, and then my mother has a room upstairs too. But she’s got a problem with her-”

“Ayyy, stop telling strangers all of my medical problems, they’re going to think I’m old!”

Sandor held up his hands in supplication. “Ma, you’re not old! I just want them to understand why!”

“It’s ok, you don’t have to tell us if you’re not comfortable,” Sansa interrupted. “Is it ok if we just say you have a mobility issue? That would make it more convenient to stay on the first floor?”

Isadora nodded shortly. “A  _ temporary _ issue,” she emphasized, “which is not even serious enough to mean we have to buy a new house!”

“But you’re gonna have surgery soon, Ma. You won’t be able to get up and down the stairs while you’re healing.”

Isadora frowned, but nodded, conceding the issue. “That’s true,” she admitted.

“The kitchen is also a mess,” Sandor continued.

“I thought it was beautiful,” Sansa interrupted.

Sandor looked from Sansa to Jaime, a little abashed. “Oh, uh- I mean, thank you. I did what I could with it, but the setup is all wrong. The fridge in the hallway? The pantry is all the way by the back wall? Even I hate how much I have to move around when I cook, and I don’t have mobility issues.”

Sansa repressed a saucy comment about how she bet he didn’t have any mobility issues as Jaime moved on to Isadora.

“Isadora, tell us about why you want to stay in the house.”

“It was my first home! I raised my children there, I lost my husband in that house, I don’t see why we need to leave!” Isadora had turned stubbornly stern, but Sansa spotted a spot of glimmer in her eyes.

“Oh Ma, I know that house means a lot to you, but you deserve a better house!”

“But you fixed it up so nice! It has character, you want us to move to one of those suburban cookie houses that all look the same?”

“She means cookie cutter,” Sandor explained. “I’ll make that house look nice too. It’s what I do.”

“Doesn’t matter. A house isn’t just a thing, it’s part of the family. You don’t just abandon it ‘cause it’s not pretty anymore.”

A slightly awkward silence descended between the two, that Jaime did his best to defuse. “Well, I’ve had an evaluation done on your house, and it’s current value is 250,000 dragons.”

Isadora looked shocked. “We paid 60,000 for it. I won’t say how long ago, a lady doesn’t reveal her age, but I was 16. You can do the math.”

Sansa chuckled as Jaime continued. “What is your list of must-haves to move to a new house?”

Isadora began, shockingly serious and business-like. “It must be three-bedroom, with an office, a nice kitchen, two bathrooms, either a bedroom and bathroom on the first floor, or a single-floor house, nice bathroom with a big sokkatub.”

Jaime blinked. “A what?”

Isadora blinked back. “Sokkatub.”

“She means soaker tub,” Sandor smiled.

“That’s what I said.”

“And what’s the budget for the new house?” Jaime asked, and Sansa couldn’t help but laugh at his attempts to keep them on topic.

“300,000.”

Isadora shook her head. “So much money! When we have perfectly good house!”

Sansa smiled. “I agree with Isadora, it is a lovely home. What would need to be changed to get you to stay?”

Sandor spoke up, reading of a small list in front of him. “Convert front sitting room into bedroom, add an office, add main floor bathroom, move refrigerator, and update the upstairs bathroom.”

“That’s a good-sized list. What’s my budget?”

“50,000”

Sansa nodded. “That’s a little bit of a smaller budget, but I am confident that I can hit scratch most of the items off your list, and really improve the function of your house. When I’m done, you’re going to love it.”

“Hear hear!” Isadora cried, and picked up her wineglass to clink against Sansa’s. It was an unscripted moment, but Sansa drank with Isadora anyway, both of them smiling.

“No, no, I agree with Sandor,” Jaime tried to cut into the frivolity. “I don’t think that house is ever going to be able to fulfill your needs. We’re going to find you a beautiful house that is perfect for your needs now, and the only thing you’re going to say about your old house is ‘list it’.”

He held up his wine glass and Sandor clinked glasses with him. “Cheers to that,” he said in a low rough voice. Tyrion called cut.

“Well done, Sandor, Isadora, very well done. You can go see Lancel over there about your microphones.”

As soon as the pair were out of earshot, he turned to Sansa. “Well, that will make for some interesting editing.”

Sansa sipped her wine again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mmmhmm. I’ve got to run, but Lancel will start taping your individual bumper shots.” He pointed to Sansa. “Remember, you’re renovating the house, not the stud-muffin.”

She turned to watch him leave, and saw Jaime staring at her. “Oh, not you too!”

“You like him,” he said in a teasing tone, drawing out the word  _ like _ . “You liiiiike hiiiim.”

“I do not, he’s just,” she turned to look over her shoulder at the mother/son pair, over in the corner removing their mics, “very nice to look at.”

Jaime hmmphed in an entirely unconvinced tone.

Sansa walked through the house with Tormund, and, for the first time, the homeowners. Sansa smiled when she got the notice from Lancel, who had stopped removing their mics after Tyrion walked through. “Of course they are,” she sighed.

Sandor looked confused, but Isadora looked excited at the news. “I get to show you my home!” she gushed to Sansa before a production assistant left to drive them back to the house. Sansa filmed her straight-to-camera bit first so she could head over, and Jaime gave her a knowing smile before he went out to film his.

“Have fun!”

“I will!”

Sansa explained to Tormund that Sandor was a carpenter, and had done most of the updates to the house. Tormund looked very excited at that, and asked where he worked.

“I have my own business, actually. Mostly kitchen cabinets, that sort of thing. Sometimes I wish I’d been an electrician instead, so I could have done more around here.”

As Turmund and Sandor spoke, Isadora stepped casually over to Sansa. “Very good business.”

Sansa looked at the older woman. “I”m sorry?”

“It’s a very good business. Very good money. Support big family,” she said the last in a sing-song voice before walking away.

Sansa suppressed a giggle, and interrupted Tormund.

“So, we’ll start walking through the house. When we go upstairs, Isadora, if you don’t want to go up, you don’t have to.”

“I am not old!” was Isadora’s response. Sandor gave her a look.

“The doctor said avoid stairs as much as possible.”

She looked away and grumbled. Sansa ended up leading the way, with Tormund, Sandor and Isadora following.

“First thing, we’re going to convert this room into a bedroom. I love the sliding doors, but what we can do is completely close off this wall,” she motioned to the wall between the front and back sitting rooms, “and then that will give a bit more privacy. We’ll completely refurnish the room as a bedroom, so no more pull-out couch! Proper bed and dresser and everything.”

Everyone nodded. “Easy enough,” Tormund said.

They headed down the hallway. “Back sitting room, dining room are staying as is. This fridge,” she pointed out the fridge as they passed into the kitchen, “is going here in the corner. Right next to the pantry.”

Tormund looked around the kitchen, nodding approval. “Nice cabinets!”

“Yes, so all of this woodwork gets to stay. We’ll probably have to run some wiring for the fridge back to that corner, right? For the special plug?”

Tormund nodded. “Shouldn’t be too hard, though.”

“Excellent. Because this,” she walked back to the fridge alcove, “is where the first-floor bathroom is going.”

Tormund grimaced. “You’re joking right?”

Sansa shook her head. “No, Isadora needs a bathroom on the first floor, she won’t be able to do stairs for a while.”

Tormund pulled out a tape measure, measured width and depth, walked into the dining room and evaluated the space in there.

“Good news is, I think I can do it. But I’ll have to take some of your dining room. I assume it has to be a full bathroom?”

Sansa looked at Sandor, who nodded.

“Ok. It’ll take your dining room down to this.” He stood about two feet from the back dining room wall, which made his hip butt up against the table. “Might not be room for your table.”

Sandor shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll make a smaller one.”

“But your beautiful table!” Isadora lamented.

“Don’t worry about it. You know how many offers I’ve got for that table? I’ll sell it for probably the same amount it’ll cost to build that bathroom. We don’t ever have seven people over to dinner anyway.”

“We might someday,” Isadora protested weekly. Ygritte came out of the kitchen, where she had been trailing the filming crew.

“Isadora, would you like to wait with me in the sitting room?”

“Oh, another redhead! You know, I have a nephew who is single? Very handsome, all my relatives are handsome-”

Ygritte threw a look, half-amused, half cry for help, over her shoulder as she walked with Isadora into the living room. Sansa, Sandor, and Tormund headed upstairs.

“Your mother is quite the match-maker,” Sansa remarked to Sandor as they climbed.

“Yes, she’s not going to be happy until every person in King’s Landing between the ages of 18 and 45 are happily married. If it wasn’t me and my nephew, it’d be Tormund and Jaime and Lancel and Tyrion…”

Sansa giggled, as they waited for the camera crew to join them on the landing.

“So one of your asks was that you have an office. That’s going to go on this floor, obviously, so you can get your dining room back.”

Sandor nodded. “Much appreciated.”

“I’m thinking, now that your mother will be staying downstairs, we give the larger room to Elena? How old is she?”

“Sixteen.”

Sansa nodded. “Yes, much too old to be cramped up in that tiny room. So Elena goes here, your room stays there, and your office in this room.”

Sansa opened the door to the smallest bedroom. “Little small for an office,” Tormund grunted, motioning to the ceiling.

“It’s all about how you use the space,” Sansa replied with confidence she didn’t feel as she sized up the two large men, crammed in together at the doorway. “Besides, you don’t use your office all the time, right?”

Sandor shrugged. “No, just scheduling, doing to books, that kind of thing.”

“Exactly. So we’ll put a desk here, a chair, a few other details I’m not going to mention now because it’ll ruin the surprise. So, let’s check out the bathroom.”

Tormund grunted when they opened the bathroom door.

“So obviously we’re going to update everything. Nice big tub, as big of a sink as we can squeeze in, a few other little surprises. Sound doable?” she asked Tormund.

“What’s the budget?”

“50,000.”

“And no walls to tear down? You don’t want a new floor added on? This is like a dream.”

“Ha ha. All right, no, no impossible requests for now at least. Let’s head back downstairs.”

Sansa shook hands with Sandor and Isadora and thanked them for being so flexible. As she left, Isadora pulled Sansa aside.

“I must speak with you, Miss Stark,” the older woman told Sansa breathlessly. When they were alone in the front sitting room, Isadora smiled at Sansa.

“Is it Miss Stark? Not Mrs?”

Sansa smiled. “No, just Miss.”

Isadora’s smile widened. “Ah, but you probably have a boyfriend. No? Handsome boyfriend who build you cabinets?”

“No, no boyfriend.”

Isadora pretended to frown. “How can this be? Such a pretty lady, so smart and charming? You know Sandor is single,” this last part delivered in a whisper.

“Ma, we gotta go, they have to start getting ready for the renovations,” Sandor called from the front door, a disapproving look on his face.

“I come, I come,” Isadora waved him off, then turned back to Sansa.

“Just think about what I say. You don’t meet every day a nice boy who takes care of his mother. That is all I say!” she held up her hands in a final dismissive gesture and turned to go.

After the Cleganes had left, Sansa turned to Lancel. “Delete that audio.”

“Nope.”

“50 dragons if you delete that audio.”

“Sorry, Sansa. Tyrion would fire me.”

Sansa pulled a face. “Fine.”

Sansa met with Sandor a few weeks later as she took him on a tour of the house.

“You ready to see what we’re working on?”

“Yes,” he replied, a little flatly.

“Sandor, can you try it with a little more enthusiasm?” Lancel asked.

“That was my enthusiasm,” Sandor grumbled, but tried gamely tried again. “Yes, absolutely!”

“All right!” Sansa opened the front door. Everything was covered in plastic. She pointed out the newly constructed wall separating the sitting rooms.

“So we finished the wall in your mother’s new bedroom. I really think this is going to work for her as her new bedroom. We’ll add some more touches, nice curtains, maybe a rug, to make it more homey.”

She led Sandor back to the kitchen. “We’ve started work on the bathroom. But we don’t have room for a full tub. We can do a shower.”

Sandor shook his head. “That won’t work. You can’t do even a small tub? She can’t take showers after her surgery.”

Realization dawned on Sansa. “Oh. I didn’t realize. Ok, I’ll see what I can do.”

In the kitchen, Sansa showed Sandor where the fridge was being installed. “Now, we did hit a small snag. When we started working on the electrical, we discovered that there’s a big problem with your wiring. So we’ve had to tear everything out and start over. The wiring in the rest of the house is pretty old as well, so it’s all being redone.”

Sandor looked distraught. “So we won’t get everything we asked for?”

“Right now, you still are,” she reassured him. “I always set aside a portion for a contingency plan, and since everything you asked me for originally was well under-budget, I have not scrapped anything off the list just yet. But we are right at the limit. So if anything else goes wrong, we might have to lose something.”

“If it comes down to it, take the upstairs bath off the list.”

“Are you sure?” Sansa had never had a client volunteer to remove something before.

“Yes, it’s not that bad. The downstairs bath is the most important thing.”

Sansa nodded. “Ok, good to know. Hopefully, everything will be fine, and we won’t have to make any sacrifices.”

Sandor nodded. “I hope so.”

Lancel called cut, and Sansa turned to Sandor. “Thank you, that was great!”

The production assistants came over to take off their mics. Lancel and the cameramen started to pack away their gear. The workers, who had been taking a break while they were filming, came in from the backyard, and started working on the downstairs bathroom. Sansa went back to let them know about the shower change.

“Hold off on the bathroom for now, plans are changing somewhat. Have you got to the shower yet?”

“We were going to start this afternoon,” the head workman informed her.

“Have you got anything else you can work on? Sink?”

“We could do that.”

“Ok, thank you. I’ll try to get the new tub here as soon as possible. When are you coming out again?” She pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to Ygritte that they needed to find a bathtub as soon as possible to fit into the tiny downstairs bath.

“Next week, I think.”

“Ok, great. It’ll be here by then. Thank you!”

Sansa turned to leave, and saw Sandor standing in the kitchen.

“Sandor, what are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be in the house, it’ll ruin the surprise.”

“I was just checking on my cabinets. They’re not going, are they?”

“Course not! I would never destroy a work of art.”

To Sansa’s surprise and delight, Sandor flushed. “You’re listening to my mother too much.”

“What do you mean?”

“Her attempts to fix us up, of course. I’m not deaf.”

“My appreciation of your carpentry has nothing to do with your mother, and predates my meeting either of you. They’re just beautiful cabinets,” she shrugged.

Sandor stood silently for a few minutes, then turned to leave. “Well, I’ll get out of the way.”

“You’re not in the way,” Sansa remarked as Sandor brushed past her. He turned toward her, and Sansa noticed again how beautiful his eyes were, how unusual the steel grey color was.

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to be back here, though.”

She shrugged. “The producers are all gone. Technically, no one knows you’re here.”

Sandor considered Sansa for a moment, as though he were trying to decide if she were serious. “Are you flirting with me?”

Sansa laughed. “Ouch. Am I that bad at it?”

“It’s hard for me to tell, with my mother. She’s always telling me so-and-so is flirting with me, when they were really just being nice to me. I never was around girls enough to know when they really were flirting.”

“Why not?”

Sandor tilted his head, showed her the left side of his face. She was confused, but then she saw it, a slight discoloration of the skin, running in a jagged line from his jaw, right past the corner of his mouth, up to the brow. The skin to the left of this line was slightly paler than the right, and looked slightly bumpy. She hadn’t noticed the other day, but it seemed more pronounced now.

“They put makeup on me that first day,” he answered her thoughts. “I didn’t let them today. I burned it when I was thirteen. Took years of skin grafts to get it back to semi-normal.”

“I can hardly tell the difference,” she said. “After you pointed it out, I can see it, but,” she shrugged.

“Well of course you’d say that, you’re only after me for my lucrative carpentry business and this very old house.”

Sansa was put-out for a moment, it was such a strange thing for him to say. Then he smiled and Sansa laughed. “By the Seven, you’re joking.”

“Yes. Am I that bad at it?”

Sansa laughed. “No, I just-” And suddenly, Sandor stooped and his mouth was just inches from hers. Sansa gasped slightly, then closed the few inches to meet his lips with hers.

It was a simple kiss, brief, but electric and smoldering, and left Sansa’s stomach feeling as full of knots as the day she’d ridden a rollercoaster as a child. Sandor receded slightly, opened his mouth to utter a groan, eyes squeezed shut.

“Uhh, I’m sorry, I probably misread that.”

“No, that was nice! I like you, it’s just, if someone found out-”

“I completely understand.”

The front door opened and Sansa heard Tormund call her name. She turned to Sandor. "You should probably go. Oh my!"

"What?"

Sansa giggled. “You um- you have a little lipstick right there! Is mine smudged?”

He reached out and wiped at a spot on the corner of her mouth, seemingly unbothered by his own bright pink lips.

“No, it’s not too bad.” He smiled and then disappeared into the dining room just moments before Tormund appeared in the kitchen door.

"Sansa, didn’t you hear me calling you?”

Sansa had pulled out her phone, answering several texts from Ygritte. She looked up at Tormund. “What? No, I was just talking to the foreman, and then texting Ygritte. We have to completely change out the tub, the stand-up shower won’t work.” She noticed Sandor standing in the dining room, close to the front door. She realized he couldn’t leave with Tormund standing in the hallway, where he might see the front door open.

“Fuck, did you see this?” she yelled, and Tormund stepped into the room.

“What?” he asked, looking at where she was pointing. She faintly heard the front door open and shut.

“They scuffed the wall when they were moving the fridge! Clumsy oafs.”

Tormund frowned at the pristine wall, then peered at Sansa. “I don’t see anything.”

“It’s right there. I guess we’ll have to get Ygritte to work one of those miracles she does.”

Tormund did a double-take, then sighed. “Whatever you say.”

“I’m going to find out what we can do about fitting a tub in there,” Sansa replied with a sigh, retrieving her purse from the kitchen counter. “Later.”

As she walked out the front door, she froze on the top step. Both Tyrion and Jaime were standing in the front yard, leaning against Tyrion’s car, giggling like schoolboys.

“How long have you lot been there?”

“Long enough,” Tyrion snickered.

“Just saw Sandor. Never thought pink would be his color,” Jaime’s voice wavered on the last word, until he and Tyrion finally burst into unrestrained giggles.

“Oh, very funny! Did you just come here to spy on me?”

Tyrion tried to rein in his giggles, succeeded for a moment. “Now Sansa, of course not. I was checking up on filming.”

“And I just happened to be showing a house in the neighborhood.”

Sansa finally cracked a smile at the infectious giggles. “I’m sure you were,” she said with rolling eyes and started to head towards her car.

Jaime followed. “Sansa, hold on.”

She lingered by her car a moment, waiting for Jaime to catch up. “I’m sorry, we were only teasing. I really was showing a house nearby, not to Sandor and Isadora, another couple. I stopped by to talk to Tyrion, and we were standing out front when Sandor came out. He looked like his ma had caught him sneaking out of the house at night, and we couldn’t help it. If you’d seen it, you would have laughed too. And then you came out, with your lipstick smudged. I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad.”

He was completely earnest now, and Sansa found it almost sweet. “It’s all right, I’m not mad.”

“And there’s nothing that says you can’t snog him. If you like him, ask him out or whatever.”

Sansa folded her arms across her chest. “Are you actually giving me relationship advice? Does this make us friends?”

Jaime shrugged one elegant shoulder. “I guess so. If you want to be friends.”

Sansa felt her cheeks grow hot. “All right. Friends then.”

“All right. Go get that hot beefcake, or whatever girls say.”

It was Sansa’s time to burst out in sputtering at Jaime. “That was the most awkward pep talk I’ve ever heard, please never say that again.”

“Oh you know you wanna climb that like a tree!”

Sansa gaped as she unlocked her car. “Where do you even learn that stuff?”

“The Internet. Thirst tweets.”

“Ugh, please stop going on the Internet.” She laughed to herself as she drove away, wondering how she had gained a potential hookup, an awkward friendship, and the need to find the world’s smallest bathtub, all in one day.

The last day of filming arrived a few weeks later. Sansa showed Sandor and Isadora around the house, starting in the first-floor bedroom, the bathroom which had a walk-in tub that Sansa was particularly proud of. It was only a few feet wide, but four feet deep, with a door that swung out to let Isadora walk into the tub, but sealed when shut, so she would be able to fill the entire basin with water. It also doubled as a shower.

To make up for the lack of natural light, Sansa had filled the space with artificial light that mimicked natural, small globes of lights all over the room that had been an electrical nightmare. But it was worth it to see the smile on Isadora’s face.

She showed them the kitchen, which had scarcely been touched, other than the fridge that had been moved. Upstairs, Sansa showed Sandor his office. It was a little cramped, she had to admit, but as she said again, it would be fine for the occasional invoice reconciliation and accounting tasks he had to perform. The main bathroom had been completely overhauled, with a larger sink and countertop, new toilet, and enormous soaker tub that even Sandor would fit in.

Jaime reminded them of the house he had found them: under budget, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, all one floor, even the laundry room, despite Sandor’s protest that he did all the laundry. The downside was that the house was farther away from their current neighborhood, and might end up increasing Sandor’s commute, but he proclaimed it was worth it if his family was happy.

Sansa and Jaime sat off to the side in the dining room as Sandor and Isadora and the sister Elena discussed the merits of each house.

“So, didn’t end up having any issues with the basement, huh?”

“Nope, it was the wiring that sucked up my contingency budget.”

“This house is only going to get older, of course. More and more problems and projects. They should get a new house. The one I showed them was barely 30 years old.”

“A house older than me is hardly new.”

He turned to her in surprise. “You’re in your twenties? No wonder you’re still so wide-eyed and optimistic.”

“Why how old are you?”

“A lady doesn’t reveal her age,” Jaime reminded her and Sansa giggled.

“So, how did it go with the stud muffin, or whatever?” he asked, lowering his voice and blocking his mic. Sansa also blocked hers.

“Eh, neither of us are looking for a relationship. He’s got his family, I’m busy with my career.”

Jaime looked surprised. “I’m sorry to hear that. He seems like a nice guy.”

“Well, he is. It would never have worked though. He likes farmhouses, I’m a bungalow type of girl.”

Jaime looked perplexed. “What- what does that mean?”

“Oh, you know. He’s a classic kind of guy, I’m mid-century modern.”

“No- no I have no idea what that means.”

“Good.”

Sandor motioned to Lancel that they were ready, and Sansa and Jaime took their places.

“So, decision made?” Jaime asked.

Isadora nodded enthusiastically. “Yes.”

“And are you going to love it?” Sansa asked, looking mostly as Isadora.

“Or are you going to list it?” Jaime asked.

“We’re going to list it!” Isadora exclaimed.

“What? I thought for sure I had you with that tub!” Sansa cried out as Jaime leaned over to hug Isadora.

“We did love the tub, and everything else you did. But that new house is one-level, Sandor finally convinced me it would be better for my health. And now Sandor doesn’t have to go up and down all those stairs. Won’t get the bad hip like me!”

“I’m heart-broken, but I’m so glad you’re happy,” Sansa said as she leaned forward to hug Isadora as Jaime and Sandor shook hands.

“Sandor is still single though,” Isadora whispered to Sansa. She looked at Sandor over Isadora’s shoulder and spotted him rolling his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it, Sandor, she's never gonna date you if you don't "Love It"!
> 
> Hope you liked it! Thanks for reading!


	4. Walda and Roose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next couple are Walda and Roose. Roose needs a space for his knife-making business and Walda is extremely particular. Can either Sansa or Jaime accommodate this couple's demands?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, the holidays were a doozy!! Apparently, when given lots of free time, I don't write as much as I thought I would! Hope you had a great time celebrating (or not) and hope you enjoy!
> 
> Picset:

Sansa: 3 Jaime: 4

Jaime opened up an email from Podd, as well as the attached pictures of a new house that just hit the market. Jaime read the description with a critical eye. His new clients were exceedingly picky, not that Jaime wasn’t used to that, but it was going on month two since he’d started looking for them, and he wanted to at least find something to tempt them soon. It didn’t usually take this long to get them to bite on at least one of the houses he showed them. The actual closing process could take months, of course, but as a personal goal, he tried to keep the initial selection process under two months, if possible.

It was hard, though, when the realtors showing houses insisted on flowering up their descriptions to make them sound better. “Cozy” was a keyword for “small”, “charming” meant “old and probably in need of costly repairs”, and “luxurious” meant “expensive”. Not that this couple minded. They were new money, and were more than willing to spend a few million dragons on their next property, but they would want everything for their money, and a cozy house, even if it was charming, would probably not do the trick.

He looked at the photos, though, and confirmed his suspicions. It was small, though the photographer pulled out every trick to make it look bigger.

“Podd!” he hollered. The door to his office opened a few moments later.

“You bellowed?” Podd quipped. Jaime smirked. He’d finally broken the kid in enough to know when to tease him back, when Podd first started as his assistant, he was like a mouse.

Podd slid into the chair opposite Jaime, pad and pencil in hand. “You know, you could just reply back to the email, right?”

Jaime shrugged. “But then we wouldn’t have our wonderful conversations.”

“Sarcasm is a poor man’s wit. The new house didn’t impress you?”

“No, not in the least. Needs to be much larger, the Redwynes are trying to impress everyone with their new wealth. A small house just won’t do it. What about that property Martell’s realtor is selling? The one he just renovated?”

Podd jotted some notes down. “Don’t think I’ve seen that one. Where did you hear about it?”

“Sansa was telling me about it the other day. Apparently it’s gorgeous. Ridiculously expensive, but the Redwynes won’t mind. They’d probably prefer it. If Martell’s office acts coy, drop Sansa’s name. Maybe that will give us an in.”

Podd snuck a glance at Jaime as he scribbled notes. “You and Sansa are getting along better.”

Jaime was concentrating on his computer screen to avoid looking at his assistant. “It was all just a misunderstanding,” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

“So you two are friends now?” Podd asked in an equally casual tone.

“Yep,” Jaime replied.

“Just...friends?”

Jaime finally snapped his eyes from the computer. “Don’t I pay you to do a job?”

Podd jumped up and left the room in a flash, shutting the door behind him. Jaime liked that about him. They could joke together, but as soon as Jaime gave the signal that it had gone on long enough, Podd dropped it without complaint.

As though summoned by his thoughts alone, an email popped up from Sansa. They had begun exchanging emails shortly after the Clegane house reno completed, usually with Sansa showing him a house she was renovating, or a listing she had seen. It was strange, but in a matter of mere weeks, they had become real friends, albeit mainly on a professional basis.

He rushed to open the email, eyes catching on the thumbnail of her at the top by her name and email address, that automatically populated from her contact information. He read through the email quickly, a description of the house Martell was renovating, with pictures. “Perfect for the Redwynes, right?” she wrote at the bottom.

He smiled to himself. She’d read his mind. She’d also included the number to Martell’s realtor Ellara Sand, and an invitation to call her directly. “It’s not on the market yet, so if you hurry, you might scoop it up!”

He picked up his phone, deciding to call this one directly, texting Podd not to bother following up on the Martell house yet. While he waited for Ellara’s assistant to get her on the phone, he responded to Sansa’s email.

“You’re a life-saver,” he wrote. “I could kiss you,” and hit send as Ellara came on the phone.

She was willing to show the house, especially when he revealed the Redwynes were ready to pay cash for the right house, and they made arrangements for Jaime to bring his client by that evening. 

Jaime didn’t even think about the email he had sent Sansa until he got her reply. “Promise?” with a winky emoji.

He read over his response, particularly the last sentence, and broke out in a cold sweat, a flush rising to his face. His thoughts rushed in a panic, wondering how he could have sent that to her. He just hadn’t been thinking. Should he apologize? Just ignore it? Go along with her?

Another email from Podd, Jaime seized upon it with relief, grateful to have a distraction. He replied back to Podd, telling him to set up the meeting with the Redwynes for that evening. By the time he was done with that, there was a second email from Sansa. “Lol jk”.

Far from reassuring Jaime, he just felt more panicked. What did this mean?

He hit reply, and typed out a quick reply, apologizing for the slip, explaining that he’d been on the phone and hadn’t really thought about what he was typing. He hit send before he could second-guess it, and spent the rest of the afternoon half-waiting for her reply, one eye on his email most of the time.

She finally replied back a few hours later: Jaime, I am so sorry! My sister grabbed my phone and sent those emails, I can’t believe she would do that! Hope we’re all good.”

Jaime breathed a sigh of relief, sending a text in reply, assuring her that of course, everything was fine between them. He couldn’t help but think about Podd’s comment from earlier: just friends?

  
  
  


Jaime waited on the sidewalk of a quiet, suburban street, already feeling a little nervous. He prided himself on being a connoisseur of King’s Landing neighborhoods, and this was the equivalent of finding a hundred year old Arbor vintage in a beer fridge. It was an up-and-coming neighborhood, fifteen minutes from the busy downtown area of the Red Keep. He tried to keep himself from glancing at the house, which was equally disquieting, a modern two-story house with a small porch, flower beds lining the walk up to the front door. It was cozy and clean, and the houses were well-spaced, on large lots. The comfort of the suburbs fifteen minutes from the city? Jaime was in a tight spot.

He turned and spotted Sansa walking down the sidewalk. He mentally cursed Tyrion for this forced tv entrance, making them park blocks away and walk, with the cameras following them. He didn’t know what was more annoying, the forced entrance, or the slight flutter in his stomach as he watched Sansa walk quickly towards him.

She looked gorgeous, as always, in a pair of soft grey trousers, with a bit of a wider leg that fluttered slightly as she walked. She wore a sheer white blouse over a slightly darker white camisole, the blouse high-necked and sleeveless. Her hair was piled up on the top of her head in a bun, a few pieces slipping down to frame her face. Her makeup was soft and understated, a light blush covering her cheeks, with soft eyeliner and a pretty pink lip.

She smiled at him as she got nearer. “Ready to lose?” she taunted as soon as she was close enough to speak.

Jaime sighed and rolled his eyes, most of that sappy soft feeling fleeing at her bravado. Jaime headed up the walk towards the front door. “Please. I can already tell I’ve got this one in the bag.”

Sansa chuckled behind him. Jaime took in the little porch, complete with two chairs. They stepped in through the front door.

A pretty dining room stood on the right, through a wide entryway. A dining room table stood there, but it had that look of a room that is seldom used. A staircase led upstairs immediately in front of them, and a living room opened up on the left.

“Not a bad front entrance,” Sansa noted.

“What is wrong with these floors?” Jaime asked. Sansa made a clucking sound. The entryway had beautiful hardwood floors, but the floors of the dining room and living room didn’t match, the boards ran in a different direction.

“That is annoying,” Sansa observed. “Pretty dining room, though.”

Jaime shrugged. “Looks unused.”

They headed to the left, through the living room. It was a nice room, not spectacular. Television, couch, a few chairs. They moved on to the kitchen, at the back of the house.

“Yikes,” Jaime muttered and Sansa groaned in agreement.

The kitchen was a mess. Whoever had decided on this layout was either a fool or had never been in a kitchen before. A long counter ran along one wall, then another on a perpendicular wall, but they were too far apart, and cluttered with appliances. The dishwasher looked ancient, and Jaime unlatched the door and lay it down flat. Then he tried to open the fridge. It only opened a few inches with the dishwasher door open, despite the rather large space of the kitchen.

“Poor planning,” he noted.

“Yeah, we’re going to redo all of this. This is awful. But it’s a nice big room. The flow is just all wrong.”

Beyond the dishwasher/refrigerator nightmare was the other entrance to the dining room. “Think of the traffic jams,” Jaime commented.

Sansa agreed. “Let’s check upstairs.”

A small hallway led back to two normal looking bedrooms. “Kids’ rooms, cute. Good size.”

“Nope, nothing wrong here,” Sansa chirped.

A small bathroom stood next to the two kids’ rooms, small and a little outdated, but serviceable.

The hallway led back to the front of the house, skirting by the open stairwell. A wide set of doors stood to the left of the hallway. Jaime opened them gingerly to reveal a washer and dryer.

“Little laundry nook. Nice to have it on the main floor.”

Jaime shrugged. “Just these little doors? I bet they want a laundry room.”

“No,” Sansa groaned, shutting the doors. “They’ll get over it.”

They proceeded to the master bedroom. It was a little small, a king-sized bed dominating the room. Soft plush carpet underfoot, and a few windows let in a little light.

“What’s with the mirror?” Sansa asked, hands at her hips, looking up at the ceiling.

Jaime looked up and choked back a snort. Sansa looked at him, slightly confused.

“It’s so ugly, I’m sure they want me to get rid of it.”

Conflicting urges warred within Jaime, but he settled on a tactful route. “I probably wouldn’t bring it up.”

“But why?”

Jaime laid a hand on Sansa’s arm and pulled her towards the closet. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

The closet was a little small, but still a walk-in. It was certainly crowded, but Sansa observed that some organization would take care of that. The bathroom was outdated, and Jaime prodded her about that a little.

“It’s got potential, shower, double sinks, tub big enough to drown someone in.”

“What? That’s so mean. Why would you want to drown me?” Jaime asked, putting on a wounded expression.

“Well, I didn’t say you specifically, but now that you mention it.”

“ _ Eh hehe _ ,” Jaime mocked. “Very cute.”

“Seriously though,” Sansa said as they headed downstairs, after the cameras had stopped rolling. “You know I’ve got this one, right?”

“You say that every time.”

She shook her head. “Not kidding, this house is gorgeous. It must be worth, what? 450 with this lot and location?”

“Just means they have a bigger budget for a new house,” Jaime pointed out.

Lancel stopped them before they could leave. “There’s a back shed you need to look at, before you go meet the homeowners.”

Sansa’s face fell. “You’re kidding me. A shed?”

Jaime clapped Sansa on the back, grinning with glee. “What, you’ve got this one in the bag, right?”

Sansa glared at him which just made him chuckle with glee as he followed her through the living room, out the back door to a nice spacious lot. Sansa pointed out the large, open yard, the beautiful trees, and the lovely garden that had clearly had a lot of time and energy put into it, but nothing dampened Jaime’s sudden rush of superiority.

The shed did turn out to be a bit run-down, though it was nicer on the inside. Sansa inspected the walls with a stony expression. “It’ll be fine, I can do...whatever it is they want me to do with this.”

“Gotta love that optimism,” Jaime finished smugly.

They met the homeowners, Walda and Roose, at the local wine bar. Roose was tall and skinny, with pale blue eyes and a short beard of light brown, while Walda was a lovely blonde with dark brown eyes, rosy cheeks and a very curvy figure. She smiled broadly at Sansa as the sound technician adjusted a mic.

Her eyes sparkled as she leaned over towards Sansa. “I’m a huge fan, by the way.”

Sansa looked startled. “Of me?”

“Oh yes! I used to work for a design firm, that was my first job, and I’ve seen several houses you designed. And I saw your spread in King’s Landing Living. So gorgeous!”

Jaime frowned. “Does Tyrion know about this?”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Ignore him! He’s just a grouch.”

Loras called for quiet, and then they were rolling. Sansa began speaking in her television voice, even-toned and concerned, like a thoughtful news presenter who excelled in hard-hitting interviews.

“Tell me about your home. What made you decide to buy it, and why is it no longer working for you.”

Walda looked to Roose and began explaining. “Well, I think we both agree the neighborhood was just what we were looking for. Thirty years ago when they built those houses, there was almost nothing in that area, so they built new houses on nice large lots. Perfect for starting a family."

“But now we don’t have enough room," Roose said. "And there’s plenty of things about that house I would do over, if we had the chance. First of all, that kitchen is terrible. It’s awful for entertaining, and the flow is all wrong. Plus, I hate not being able to see the kids when I’m in the kitchen.”

Sansa and Jaime agreed with silent nods and Roose continued.

“And those floors drive me crazy. Who puts in hardwood that doesn’t match? And that master bathroom is old and ugly.”

“These are little things,” Walda pointed out. “Just needs some updating. And the kitchen is admittedly bad, but we just need to move some things around, and it’ll be great.”

“We haven’t even mentioned my work shed yet.” Roose turned toward Sansa and Jaime to explain. “Walda works a very high-level job at a tech firm, she’s great at it. So we decided early on that she would work after the kids were born and I would stay home with them. But I do still have my knife-making business on the side, so the shed is useful. But it’s not insulated and not very comfortable. Plus, I just need some place to get away.”

“Where’s my place to get away, I wonder?” Walda grumbled good-naturedly. “But yes, the shed is on the list.”

“Sounds like the house you have isn’t meeting all of your needs. Walda, what would a new house have to have to get you to move?” Jaime asked.

“We’d need three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a nice en suite, dedicated laundry space, open concept living room and kitchen, and a dedicated work space for Roose. We’d like to be in the same neighborhood, but that is negotiable.”

Jaime let out a relieved sigh. “Good. And what’s my budget?”

“425,000 dragons.”

“That’s a good budget, so if we can be flexible on location, I think I can find you a great house that meets all of your needs.”

“And what would we need to fix in your old house to get you to stay?” Sansa asked.

“Redo both bathrooms, open up the kitchen to open-concept and fix the problems with the flow, create dedicated laundry space, fix the flooring, and insulate the work shed,” Roose listed.

“That’s all very feasible. What’s my budget?”

“50,000 dragons.”

Sansa frowned slightly. “That’s a good budget, but I don’t know if that will be enough to give you all your must-haves. But I’m going to stretch that budget as far as I can and really utilize your space to meet all of your needs. And when I’m done, you’re going to love it.”

Jaime shook his head. “I don’t think there’s any way that house can work for you. I’m going to find a great new house that’s got plenty of room. When I’m done, the only thing you’re going to say about your old house, is ‘list it.’“

Walda laughed good-naturedly as they all clinked glasses. “We’re not moving.”

  
  


Jaime began to look for houses, as Sansa began renovations. The first home he showed them was within budget, a large house with a nice yard. But Jaime soon found out that Walda was picky and exacting, although very polite and good-natured. She walked through the whole house and picked out all the flaws, but always with a smile.

“That was a great house,” she said after the tour was over, “I’m sure the next one will be even better!”

Jaime turned to the camera with a grimace. “A great house, you tore it apart!”

The next house fared no better. The yard was small and “unappealing” and the en suite only had a standard bathtub, far too small for Walda.

This time it was Roose that vetoed the house. “Has to have a big tub for Walda,” he noted solemnly.

Jaime sighed internally and added that to the list.

He got updates through Podd about Sansa’s progress as he tracked down leads on more houses. The floors were redone and the kitchen opened up and reconfigured, but she’d run into an issue with the master bath. Now she either had money to redo the second bathroom or redo Roose’s workshed. But not both.

Jaime felt good about his chances. If he could just find one house that checked all of the boxes, and had a workspace for Roose (which he found out from the next house couldn’t be located in the same building as the main house, due to the noise), he would have the edge over Sansa.

Finally, Sandor found the perfect house: a brand-new kitchen that was completely open to the rest of the first floor, which included a living room and a playroom. A powder room for guests on the first floor. Detached two-car garage had a small back room for a workspace for Roose, and was well-insulated against the cold. The second floor had two bedrooms for the children, with a shared bathroom between the two rooms, a dedicated laundry room, as well as a sizable master bedroom. The master closet was walk-in, and the en suite had double vanity sinks and a huge soaker tub. It was only ten minutes away from their current neighborhood, and right on budget.

Even Walda had to admit it was lovely. Everything suited her, from the layout, to the room sizes, down to the wood floors and wall colors (pale, watery blue on the first floor, a very understated pink on the second).

Jaime went into the taping of the ending full of confidence.

  
  


He pouted at the wrap party, a tradition Tyron had taken to with glee. After the second second time Sansa and Jaime had met for drinks after filming wrapped (and argued, and left in a huff), Podd and Ygritte had resurrected the tradition, meeting in private to dissect the events of the episode and trade secrets. Tyrion found out about it and subsidized it, extending the invitation to all of the crew. Once tensions eased between Jaime and Sansa, they gladly participated. Provided they were separated after two drinks, before either of them had a chance to start needling the other.

Jaime glanced at the table where Sansa was holding court, surrounded by Tormund, Ygritte, and Podd, the little traitor.

Tyron half-climbed, half-fell into the chair next to Jaime, grinning at him when he finally looked away from Sansa. Jaime scowled at his brother’s grin.

“What are you so happy about?”

“Look at the two of you!”

Jaime checked his phone, shrugging one shoulder. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sitting in the same room together, coexisting.” Tyrion gasped for dramatic effect, and Jaime rolled his eyes.

“Can’t believe I lost that one! I found the perfect house!”

He’d toured the house before they started filming, chagrined at the changes. Sansa had converted the seldom used dining room into a personal office for Walda, for when she worked at home, closing off the entryway to the kitchen, and installing french doors to close off the room from the living room when she needed privacy. She’d opened up the living room and kitchen, installing a charming kitchen island, moving the fridge. A kitchen table took the place of the dining room table, and sat near the large bay windows that overlooked the backyard. Even Jaime had to admit it was cozy.

Upstairs, both bathrooms had been renovated. Sansa had managed to turn the tiny nook into a dedicated laundry space by switching to a stackable washer and dryer, and taking a little bit of space from the master bedroom. Lastly, Walda had apparently provided a little extra money to renovate Roose’s workspace, calling it an anniversary present. Jaime hadn’t stood a chance. The couple gleefully announced they loved it.

“Ah, I wouldn’t worry about it. It wasn’t your fault. Never underestimate the appeal of having all your stuff already at a good house.”

Jaime shrugged. “People do hate moving,” he admitted.

Tyrion sipped his wine. “You should go congratulate her.”

Jaime glared at him. “No.”

“Why not?”

“She’ll gloat.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Cause it’s what I would do?”

Tyrion smiled indulgently. “Pretend she’s the bigger person.”

Jaime grumbled and got up, went to the bar of the private event space Tyrion rented every 5 weeks. After having his whiskey replenished, he headed over to the table.

To their credit, the group welcomed him in immediately. Podd hooked over a chair from the empty table adjacent, and he and Tormund shifted to make room. Ygritte continued with her story about ordering flooring, after giving him a quick smile. Jaime laughed at her impression of the mouth-breathing, indifferent customer service rep she had to call after the wrong flooring was shipped. He completely forgot about congratulating Sansa after a few minutes, and wondered if that was why Tyrion had sent him over in the first place. 

"I still can't believe they didn't want me to fix the bedroom ceiling," Sansa observed, making Jaime snort.

She stared at him, then around the table as everyone else hid giggles behind their hands. "What?"

Jaime looked at the others and decided he would be the one to break it to her. "For fuck's sake, Stark. It's a sex thing."

He saw her eyes grow wide, then understanding dawned. "Oh? Ohhh! Is that why I could never hear the workmen when I was in the living room?"

Jaime laughed so hard he cried.

He spent a few more hours at the party before heading for home. No one mentioned the outcome of the episode. He had just arrived home, when his phone buzzed with a text message.

**What’s up loser? ;)**

He stared at the screen. “Who the hell?” He sent a message asking who was texting him.

**Sansa. Podd gave Ygritte your number to give to me. Seeing as how we’re friends…**

Jaime groaned as he saved the number to a contact, adding only devil emojis to the name field. “Guess some things never change.”


	5. Lyanna and Robert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A freak heat wave hits King's Landing, and Jaime hosts a pool party to help everyone cool off, but the party might have the opposite effect on some of the crew. Robert and Lyanna argue over a stag's head decoration, and Ygritte and Podd are boning *high five*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to do something a little different for this chapter, since the chapters were all starting to feel the same to me. So we have a really long pool party intro, and then the actual home renovation is a little bit more in the background. Let me know if you like it, I probably will go back to the regular format next chapter.
> 
> Picset:

Sansa: 4 Jaime: 4

Sansa sat on a kitchen counter in front of her fridge, freezer door open and her feet propped up on the side, risking the utter ruin of its contents in a frantic bid to stay cool. She had a bowl of ice cream pressed to her chest, and while the cold porcelain bowl was helping to bring down her core temperature, it was quickly melting. She ate it before it could turn into milky soup, then set the bowl in the sink. Her phone buzzed.

A text from Jaime:  **How you holding up?**

She groaned and typed out a reply:  **Puddling. Can’t believe it’s so hot. Isn’t it supposed to be autumn?**

A heat wave had crippled King’s Landing. Production had even shut down for the week, so Sansa was stuck at home in the middle of the day, her stuffy little apartment that was still 32 degrees even with every fan going full blast and every window open to the possibility of a passing breeze. The meteorologists had been talking about the freak heat wave all day, apparently it was completely normal, the result of some kind of shift in the wind corridors or something as the seasons changed. Sansa vehemently disagreed. This was far from normal.

Her phone tinged again, and she somehow found the courage to lift her arm to view the text.  **So, I do have a pool.**

Her jaw dropped. She sat bolt upright, hitting her head on the door of the freezer.  **Shut up** , she replied, holding the phone in trembling hands, waiting for the reply.

**Yep. I’m going to invite the crew over. Want to come over around 5-ish? I’ll grill something.**

It was still four hours away, but it was the best news Sansa had heard all week.  **I could die. Should I bring something?**

Sansa had already gone to her bedroom to rummage around in the bottom drawer of her bureau for her swimsuit, when her phone pinged again.  **Is that a good thing? Nah, I’ll take care of everything.**

Sansa giggled as she typed back:  **It’s a good thing. So you mean Podd will take care of everything?**

Jaime sent back a gif of a man giving a thumbs up, and Sansa couldn’t help rolling her eyes. She dug out her favorite two-piece bathing suit, and decided she would bring a bottle of wine, despite his protests that she didn’t need to bring something. Her mother didn’t raise her to come to a party empty-handed.

Sansa took a quick shower, in almost completely cold water, jumping out refreshed and cooled, at least for the moment. Both the cold shower and the prospect of having something to do that night besides just sitting around in abject misery gave her a purpose and lifted her spirits. She towel-dried her hair, then braided it while still damp, tucking the end up behind the braid and securing it with a few pins. She pulled on a pair of jean shorts and a tank top, then slathered on 50 SPF sunscreen before she left.

As she walked to the corner store, she wondered what exactly she was excited for? A party? A reason to take a shower and do her hair and look presentable? Seeing her friends? Or… could it be someone else she was excited to see?

She shook her head as she entered the store, waving to the clerk before heading back to the wine section. That was ridiculous, she told herself. She was just ready to get in a pool, have a few drinks, listen to music, and relax with friends. That’s definitely why she picked out her cutest bikini and was now trying to decide between two bottles of wine that cost nearly four times as much as the wine she typically bought. She definitely wasn’t trying to impress anyone.

She rolled her eyes at herself and sighed, drawing the notice of another customer in the wine aisle. She finally picked one (an Arbor Gold way out of her usual wine budget) and carried it to the front. The clerk whistled as he checked out the label.

“Fancy!” he said, smiling as he rang her up. She cringed. Even the clerk at the corner store knew her well enough to know she was putting on airs. Jaime was going to think she was so pretentious.

  
  


Sansa showed up at the address Jaime texted her, bottle of wine in a special, festive bag she’d had to buy special, since you can’t just bring it in a brown paper bag like some kind of hobo. She parked in the long, curving driveway behind a car she didn’t recognize, and walked up to the front door, what felt like miles in the blazing late afternoon sun. A note was tacked on the door, letting her know the front door was locked, but that guests could come around the side of the house, straight to the back deck.

The path led under some nice, shady trees, and Sansa made the trek without risking further heat stroke, admiring the house as she walked, and the beautiful grounds.

It was exactly the kind of house she wanted for herself someday, large, but not excessive. She loved the exterior, painted a dreamy, soft blue that didn’t stand out too much, while at the same time different enough to not be boring.

A gate opened up onto the porch. The pool was bigger than she’d expected, in a sinuous kind of hourglass shape. Pool chairs and umbrellas stood in rows on the concrete pad surrounding the pool. On the other side of the pool, behind the house, a red wood porch stood, with an awning stretched from the house to the edge of the porch, providing shade. Jaime was standing on the porch, next to a smoking grill, in a pair of blue swim trunks and a pale red t-shirt, holding a beer and talking to Tormund. He saw Sansa and waved.

Ygritte was already in the pool with Podd and Shae. Tyrion was sitting in a deck chair, apparently dozing with a wet kerchief tied around his neck. She waved to Ygritte and Podd, then climbed the steps to greet Jaime.

“You made it,” he grinned, turning to rummage in a cooler. “Beer? Margarita? Water?”

“I’ll take a beer,” she said, then turning to greet Tormund.

Jaime popped the top off of a beer whose label she didn’t recognize, then handed it to her, ice cold and dripping.

“Here, I think you’ll like that one.”

“Your house is beautiful, thanks for having us over.” She took a sip, and had to agree, she did like it, it was not hoppy or bitter at all, but light and lemony and just a little sweet. She took another sip.

Jaime shrugged. “Least I could do. Can’t let everyone die of heat. Besides, it gives me an excuse to use it, it normally sits empty all year. Feel free to change inside, there’s a little bathroom right inside the door.”

Sansa slid open the door, and found herself in a small mudroom, with benches for sitting or holding bags, and hooks for coats. A small door led to a little washroom, with a shower for quick rinsing off. Sansa pulled off her T-shirt and shorts, since she’d worn her bright red bikini underneath her clothes, but left her cheap sandals on as she stepped into the walk-in shower, quickly rinsing off. She undid her braid, letting the tendrils drip dry, then looked reproachfully at the bottle of wine that she had stowed in the bottom of her bag at the last minute out of embarrassment. She would give it to him, she finally decided. It would possibly be ruined, sitting in her back outside in the heat all afternoon, and besides, she’d spent good money on this gift.

Luckily, when she came out of the bathroom, the door to the kitchen was open, and Jaime was busy in the freezer, filling a bowl full of ice from the ice maker. She stepped quietly in the room and stood on a mat by the sink, just in case she was still dripping.

“I brought you this-” she started to say, then winced when Jaime hit his head on the freezer door. “Oh, are you ok?”

He shut the freezer door, rubbing his head as he turned around. “Sure, you just startled me,” and then froze when he saw her. Sansa felt her cheeks flush. It was just a plain bikini, but Sansa knew it might be a little awkward for him, since it was the least amount of clothes she’d ever worn in front of him. Plus, she knew how good she looked in it, that’s why she’d picked it.

“Sorry, my mother always said you should bring a gift when you go to someone’s house. It doesn’t really fit the occasion though, so feel free to save it for another time.”

Jaime pulled the bottle out of the bag. “Wow. This is a really nice wine. You didn’t have to get me this,” he said, looking back up at her with a small smile.

Sansa shrugged, glad her cheeks had finally cooled to a normal temperature. “Well, you didn’t have to do this. I wanted to thank you. Anyway, I should get out of here before I drip all over your floor.”

She turned away and made a face at her awkwardness, then left for the backyard as quickly as she could.

Sansa couldn’t remember a more memorable evening. As soon as Sansa came back outside, she jumped into the pool, playing Aegon Targaryen with Ygritte and Podd, one of them closing their eyes in the shallow section and shouting “Aegon!” while the other two chorused back “Targaryen!” and then the first person using the shouts to hone in on their location, trying to catch them before they could escape. It relaxed her enough that she almost forgot the encounter with Jaime, when she came out of the pool to put more sunscreen on.

Ygritte joined her, lamenting being a red-head, and made Tormund come over as well. “You’re burning like a lobster,” she chided him.

Jaime and Podd laughed gleefully from the porch, and Sansa couldn’t help envying them their golden tans.

After that it was time to eat: burgers (both beef and black bean), vegetable and chicken kebabs. A small table nearby also held chips, vegetable platters, cookies. There was even a peach cobbler, cooked on the back of the grill, the crumble crispy and buttery, the peaches caramelized and smoky.

Then back into the pool, playing water volleyball in the shallow end of the pool, first Sansa’s team against Jaime’s, Sansa, Ygritte and Tormund on one side, with Jaime, Podd, and Shae subbing in for Tyrion, who watched from the sidelines, cackling and sipping his wine. Eventually, Sansa and Ygritte broke off, making their excuses that they needed to apply more sunblock.

They sat on the edge of the pool watching the end of the game between Tormund and Shae against Jaime and Podd.

“He’s really cute, isn’t he?” Ygritte asked in a low enough voice no one would have heard them over the splashing and shouting.

Sansa eyed Jaime, who was positioned with his back to them, and watched the muscles of his back, the water streaming out from his hair over his lightly tanned skin. His hair was darker when wet, a kind of hay-colored very light brown, and it made his green eyes stand out even more against his skin. Her eyes flicked over his well-muscled figure, from sculpted arms, broad shoulders, to trim waist. She shrugged.

“He’s all right I guess, if you like them blond and muscled.”

Ygritte turned to Sansa, lips pursed together. “I was talking about Podd.”

Sansa glanced over at the darker haired brunette, who had just swum closer to retrieve an errant ball. She could see the appeal, a little skinnier than Jaime and much more slender than Tormund, who more closely resembled a tree. But he had a nice face, big brown eyes, and a cute way of pushing the water-sodden locks of hair out of his eyes.

“Oh, yeah, he’s cute.”

Sansa tried to pretend she was very engrossed in the game, but Ygritte wasn’t falling for it.

“Oh my god, you like him.”

“Podd? He’s a little young for me.”

Ygritte shoved her playfully. “Not Podd, Jaime.”

“Shh!!! I do not! I can admire a physique, can’t I?”

Ygritte looked unconvinced.

“Hey, get in here! We’re going to play bosses and assistants,” Jaime called over to them, holding up the volleyball and attempting to spin on one finger, but failing several times.

Ygritte opted to walk over, but Sansa decided to swim from the deep end, partly to get acclimated to the water again (which felt almost cold, now that she was dry) and to cool her cheeks, which had begun to burn, and not from the sun. She held her breath as she slid from the side of the pool into the water, sinking about halfway, then planting her feet against the side of the pool, kicked off, undulating her body to propel her further as she stroked once with her arms. She managed to time it so that she emerged from the water just a few feet by the net, tossing her hair out of her eyes and gracefully landing on her feet. She looked up to see Jaime staring at her, mouth slightly agape.

She tilted her head from side to side, trying not to grin as she shook some water out of her ear. She grabbed the volleyball from where it was floating by, and declared she would start the serve. Jaime cleared his throat, and went to take his position by the net. Sansa grinned to herself as she went to serve. Maybe she did think Jaime was cute, but it was a relief to know the feeling was mutual.

Later, as the sun went down, Sansa was sitting at the pool side with a cup of wine, when Jaime came and stood beside her. When she leaned back and tilted her head back to look up at him, he handed her a bowl of peach cobbler, complete with a perfect dab of whipped cream on top.

“Oh! Thank you,” she murmured as Jaime knelt to sit beside her, dipping his feet into the water, and taking a bit of his own serving of cobbler. He looked out across the water at Ygritte and Podd, sitting on lounge chairs, talking animatedly about something. Shae and Tyrion had left a while ago, followed by Tormund. Sansa had just been thinking she should get changed and go, but she was enjoying watching Podd and Ygritte, who seemed to be off in their own world. She’d never realized they had such chemistry, though she didn’t think she’d ever seen them in the same room together before. She knew they had met on set one day, and texted often.

“They’re cute together,” Jaime noted and Sansa agreed, taking a bite of her cobbler. It had been sitting on the back of the grill all evening, with the lid closed after the flames went out, so it was still warm.

“This is amazing. I can’t believe you really made all this.”

Jaime shot her a sideways look. “I can cook, you know! I’m not lucky enough to have an assistant who cooks, like my brother.”

“Or a girlfriend. Or an assistant slash cook slash girlfriend.”

“Exactly,” Jaime chuckled.

“How does that even...work? Having a girlfriend for an employee?”

“I assure you, I have no idea. But they’re devoted. She’s been with him for something like 6 years now.”

Sansa finished her cobbler, and set the bowl beside her, leaning back on her hands. She began kicking her feet idly through the water. “It was really nice of you to invite us all over. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

He shook his head. “No, no trouble. It was fun. I’ve lived here a year and I don’t think I’ve ever really had people over like this. I mean, I have parties, but a different kind of people, I guess. Not a lot of pool volleyball going on with that set.”

“What, a party of realtors?” Sansa teased. “Yeah, that sounds like a real lively bunch. I bet you all just talk about APR and subprime mortgages.”

Jaime laughed. “What, and decorators are a lively bunch? You’d just be worrying about spilling your drinks on the Dornish silk.”

Sansa snorted, and quickly covered her mouth with her hand, laughing harder at the unladylike noise that she had emitted. Soon Jaime was laughing as well, and it took them a few minutes to bring themselves back under control, a companionable silence falling over them. Sansa’s eyes were drawn to Jaime’s thigh, his golden skin looking darker in the pale blue light from the submerged pool lights along the walls. She felt an overwhelming urge to reach out and run her hand down the pale gold hair that was almost silver in the light, and see if it felt as soft as it looked.

“This is nice, too,” Jaime’s voice cut into her reverie. She looked up quickly, guiltily, hoping he hadn’t just caught her staring at his legs.

He was looking into the water, though, and only turned his head towards her when she didn’t respond. “You know, not fighting.”

“Oh, yes. It is.”

His hair was drying, starting to curl slightly at the ends. “I didn’t know your hair was curly.”

“Oh,” he pulled at one of the strands, trying to smooth them back. “Yeah, I usually blow dry it.”

“Why? You should let it curl.”

Jaime shrugged. “Brienne said it focus-grouped better straight.”

Sansa made a face. “You’re gonna let twelve strangers tell you how to do your hair?”

“It’s unruly when it’s curly, trust me. The humidity would just make me look like a cotton ball.”

“That’s it, one day I’m going to hide all of your hair care products,” she laughed, drawing her legs out of the water and onto the edge of the pool, standing up carefully and then picking up her bowl. Jaime looked up at her.

“I should probably head home. Unless you’d let me sleep in your pool.”

“Here, I’ll walk you out,” Jaime said, standing and taking the empty bowl from her. He glanced over at Ygritte and Podd and rolled his eyes, then turned back to Sansa before calling out. “Podd, Sansa’s leaving. Come say goodnight to her.”

Sansa giggled. It was like Podd had been caught daydreaming by his second grade teacher. He stood up so quickly he knocked over his patio chair, which clattered into the umbrella, causing it to wobble before also falling over. Ygritte and Podd both rushed to right the deck furniture before calling over that they should probably head out as well. The “we” did not go unnoticed to Sansa.

Sansa headed into the little washroom to pull on her shorts and tank top over her mostly-dry swimsuit. When she came out, Podd and Ygritte were still outside, cleaning up some of the refuse from the party. Jaime was in the kitchen, having pulled on a T-shirt over his dry swimming trunks.

“Should I help them?” she asked, leaning against a counter as she pulled on her sandals.

“No, Podd offered to help, and Ygritte volunteered too. I told them they didn’t have to, but,” he shrugged. “I’ll show you out if you’re ready.”

Sansa nodded, pulling the strap of her beach bag over her shoulder. She followed him out through the kitchen, into a little den/sitting room. Sansa couldn’t help looking around, trying to figure out-

“It was Margaery,” Jaime cut in before Sansa could say anything. “I know you’re wondering.”

“Margaery? I didn’t know she decorates.”

“Yeah, she’s trying to get into the field. Doesn’t want to be Tyrion’s assistant forever.”

“This is really good. Seriously, I should try to snatch her up. I’m sure Ygritte could use the help.”

In any other house, Sansa would have thought it gloomy and cramped. But in Jaime’s house, with 20 foot ceilings, it looked sophisticated and practical. The back wall was painted a dark charcoal, all the way up to the slanted roof, where skylights no doubt let in prodigious quantities of daylight. At night, wall sconces kept it from being too dark. A gas fireplace sat in the middle of the accent wall, long and wide. It was off for now, but Sansa could see the faux “coals” glowing red, it added a nice ambiance to the room. Dove grey carpets covered the floor, not too light to show every bit of dirt, but not too dark either. The leather couch was long and slightly over-stuffed and comfortable looking, black to match the color palette. Sansa found she was running her hand down the soft leather, which felt just the right amount of worn.

She snatched her hand away, suddenly embarrassed and she didn’t know why. “Sorry, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“You’re not bothering me,” he replied, but she was already halfway to the door.

Later that night, sweating in bed, she tossed and turned, remembering how wistful he’d looked as he opened the door for her, almost as if he wished she had stayed. She told herself she was imagining it, and rolled over, trying to sleep with the fan on its highest setting, pointing directly at her bare back and legs, but she couldn’t forget the green of his eyes, dazzled and dazzling.

  
  


“Well, I’m fucked,” Sansa remarked in monotone. Jaime burst into laughter as one of the associate producers swore.

“You can’t say ‘fuck’, Sansa!” he protested.

“I’ll do it again in a second, I just wanted to say for the record that this is fucking ridiculous.”

She and Jaime were standing side-by-side in the den, looking up at a stag’s head mounted on the wall. Sansa sighed, cupping her chin with her hand, shaking her head and finally lowering her hand. “Ok, let’s go again.”

Jaime looked over at her sympathetically. “It’s not that bad,” he said.

“Is that supposed to sound like a challenge?” Sansa asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“It was supposed to be comforting.”

“Well, you landed on smug. I can do this. I can redecorate anything.” She gazed around the room.

“It’s actually an oddly nice room,” Jaime commented, following her train of thought exactly.

“Right? The desk, the little plant, the stationary. The walls, that grey that’s not too dark.” She stared at the deer’s head again. “Twenty dragons says he wants to keep the head and she doesn’t.”

Jaime shook his head. “No way am I taking that bet.”

Sansa grimaced and turned to the stag’s head again. “I’m so screwed.”

“Don’t say screwed either,” the producer called out. Sansa rolled her eyes.

At the restaurant, Sansa and Jaime sat down across from Lyanna and Robert, a pleasant, good-looking couple in their late twenties. Sansa invited them to discuss the house, and Lyanna spoke up first.

She was very pretty, with dark brunette hair and sparkling blue eyes. She turned an imploring expression on Sansa.

“Well, basically, everything can be summed up with that stag’s head. I hate it, he refuses to take it down.”

Inwardly, Sansa cringed. It was a small consolation being right, when she now felt like she had to be both show co-host, decorator, and therapist. “I did notice the stag’s head. It’s an interesting design choice.”

“It’s not a bloody design choice, it’s been in my family for years,” Robert interjected. “Besides, I like it.”

He looked to Jaime for approval, and Jaime, like a suckup, gave a lukewarm endorsement. “Well, I can see if it’s an heirloom, that would give it special meaning for you.”

“What else about the house isn’t working?” Sansa asked, trying to steer the conversation back to the house.

“It’s not big enough,” Lyanna said.

“But there’s that big basement. We just need to fix that up, we’ll get so much more room.”

“That basement is so dark and icky. I’m not going down there until it looks less like something from a horror movie. Besides, we want to start a family. You want your kids playing in that basement?”

“Ah, they’ll be fine. Builds character!”

Lyanna turned back to Sansa, “Tetanus builds character, apparently. We haven’t even mentioned the en suite.”

Jaime nodded. “It’s a little dated. I’m sure I can find you an amazing new house with an updated en suite that is to die for. What would you need to move?”

“Three bedrooms, two bathrooms including en suite, space for home office and workout space, upstairs laundry, big kitchen, and room for the stag’s head,” Robert reported.

“There will be room for everything,” Jaime chuckled. “What’s my budget?”

“300,000 dragons.”

“That’s a little bit of a smaller budget, but I think I can find the perfect home for you.”

“And I think I see what I need to do to make you comfortable, but why don’t you tell me what you would need to stay,” Sansa prompted.

“Redo master en suite, finish the basement, move laundry from basement to first floor, update kitchen flow, and get rid of the deer’s head,” Lyanna listed.

“And what’s my budget?”

“For the deer’s head? Ten dollars.”

Sansa tried to keep a straight face. “And the rest?”

“60,000 dragons.”

“That’s a decent budget, and while I’m not certain I’ll be able to complete all of those items, I know that I can give you the space you need to grow your family, and you are going to love it.”

“Absolutely not, I am going to find an amazing house that has everything you need, and the only thing you’re going to say about your old house is ‘list it.’”

After the cameras cut, Sansa leaned into Lyanna and Robert. “Ok, but can I move the deer’s head?”

“No,” Robert boomed at the exact same time that Lyanna chirped, “Of course!” The couple turned to look at each other, while Jaime just laughed.

“Ok… thanks for clearing that up!”

She was fucked.

On a quick walkthrough with Tormund, she went over the plan.

“Be cautiously optimistic, I think we have enough money to cover all the renovations that they want, knock on wood.” Sansa rapped her knuckles on the door jamb, and Tormund followed suit.

They started in the living room. Tormund whistled. “Nice stag!”

Sansa glared at him. “No, Tormund. Seriously? It’s hideous. And it’s going down in the basement. The wife hates it and either the head moves or she does.”

“What about the guy?”

Sansa shrugged. “He’ll get over it. We’re going to build him a little den/’man cave’ in the basement around the stag’s head. No doubt one day soon it’ll turn into an entertainment space for the kids, but we just won’t mention that, right?”

They headed upstairs to the master bedroom. “So, we’re going to redo this entire en suite.”

Tormund took in the peeling laminate, the mildew building up at the edges of the tub, and the ugly, out-dated sink. “Yep, gut it all.”

“And you’re going to tell me you can do something fabulous and awe-inspiring to this bathroom to get them to stay, right?”

“I will work magic.”

“Ok good. Back downstairs.”

On the main floor, Sansa showed them where they were going to move the laundry. “This is negotiable, for me, anyway. And if we have to cut something, this will probably be it. But for now, we’ll plan on using this closet.”

“Hope they don’t mind losing a closet,” Tormund observed.

Sansa shrugged. “We’ll get a stackable. Now, the kitchen.”

They walked into the adjacent kitchen, which was fairly new, but had some noticeable flow issues. Sansa suggested moving a counter to open the space to the dining room beyond.

“They’ll lose counterspace too,” Tormund cautioned.

“But, I’m going to organize everything and it’ll feel like they have more space. Besides, maybe we could add a rolling cart for a little extra room that they can put away when they’re not using it.”

Finally, they headed downstairs to the basement. “Ok, so we’re going to refinish all of this and find out where that musty smell is coming from.”

“And pray it’s not mold.”

“And pray it’s not mild,” Sansa agreed. “We can hit up the godswood after this. I’ve saved a contingency, so as long as it’s not mold, which I really don’t think it is. I have a nose for mold. But you know, famous last words!”

“I’ll get to work. I’ll call my basement guy, he can tell me within ten minutes if it’s mold.”

Sansa groaned. “Ok, call me right after!”

Sansa met with Ygritte then, making plans for the kitchen and the en suite. After cameras stopped rolling, and they were walking out to their cars, Sansa started to tease her assistant.

“So, you and Podd were awfully close the other night.”

“We went on a date last night,” Ygritte confided with a smile.

“Stop! First date?”

Ygritte shook her head. “Third.”

“I can’t believe this. I thought you two had just started flirting at the pool party. So did anything special happen on the  _ third  _ date?” Sansa put special emphasis on “third”, then grabbed Ygritte’s arm after the younger woman gave Sansa a conspiratorial look.

“You have to tell me everything. How was it? No offense, but he looks like he would be awkward and fumbling.”

“Oh, it was neither awkward nor fumbling. He has serious game in the bedroom.”

Sansa gasped. “What did he do?”

Ygritte sighed wistfully. “It’s hard to describe.”

Sansa shrieked and Ygritte laughed. “What does that mean? I need details!”

“I don’t know, it’s just, I definitely thought he might be shy and awkward. But he was not, at all. He was kind of commanding and take-charge.” She suppressed a shiver. “It was so hot. And his dick is… quite an upgrade. For me and my sexualy history.”

“How big?”

She sighed again. “It’s not even that it was  _ that _ big. Like, it wasn’t too big. Just the right size,” she gushed.

“Ugh, I’m so jealous. I feel like I haven’t been laid in forever.”

“You and Jaime were getting awfully friendly at the pool party.”

“Eww, gross,” Sansa replied, trying to sound nonchalant. Ygritte gave her a disbelieving look, lips pursed, head cocked.

“You’re not fooling anybody. I thought he was gonna grab you and kiss you when you came out of the water all graceful and gorgeous. And I saw the way you looked at him when you were talking by the side of the pool.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It could be. Bone him!”

Sansa laughed at Ygritte’s proclamation, delivered with head tilted back and hands thrown wide. “It’d be so weird, we work together!”

“So do Podd and I.”

“It’s not the same thing. It’d be like you and Tormund.”

“Hey, Tormund’s a nice guy. He’s just a little obnoxious sometimes.”

“Sometimes? Well, I’m rooting for you and Podd. You’re so cute together. Can I tell Jaime you guys are boning?”

“Absolutely not.”

Sansa gave an impatient huff. “Fine. If you see Podd again, please take notes.”

Ygritte laughed. “No promises.”

  
  


Sansa had to exert all of her self-control the next time she saw Jaime, filming the finale reveal. Renovations had gone smoothly, as the damp smell had not turned out to be mold, though the backyard did end up needing to be re-graded to prevent water from coming in through the basement. Luckily, they’d caught it early, and there had been no lasting damage to the foundation. The couple oohed and awwed over the en suite, the revamped kitchen, the new laundry space, and the finished basement. Even Robert seemed to accept the stag head’s new place in the basement, which was understandable, since Sansa had took anything leftover in the budget to create the ‘man cave’.

Sansa and Jaime sat waiting for the couple to finish deliberations. She very badly wanted to blurt out that Ygritte and Podd were dating, but didn’t want to betray Ygritte’s trust. Then she had a moment of crippling self-doubt. Why did she even care so much? She couldn’t explain it, but the first thing she’d wanted to do upon hearing the news was tell Jaime.

She told herself she shouldn’t read too much into it. She just didn’t have a lot of friends who would care, no one else really knew Ygritte and Podd besides her and a few other people on the show. Of them all, she was closest to Jaime. Didn’t mean she had feelings for him.

Jaime glanced around to make sure the crew member who held the boom mike wasn’t around. Tyrion had switched over from lapel mics to the boom after last episode, after deciding the sound was better. It gave them more freedom to talk without worrying about being overheard.

“Did you hear Podd and Ygritte are dating?” Jaime whispered confidingly.

“Yes, she told me!”

“Unbelievable, right? I never would have called that, before the party, at least.”

“I know, right? He’s so shy and quiet.”

Jaime snorted. “You clearly don’t work with him a lot. He’s really anything but, once you get to know him. But what about her, she’s so... sophisticated. Never thought she’d go for a dork like Podd.”

Sansa scoffed. “Ygritte? She wears sweatpants and nerds out over sci fi movies. And she always has food on her shirt when we’re not filming. She’s a completely normal person, most of the time.”

The assistant director called them over to resume filming, and Sansa claimed another win.

“But I found you the perfect house!” Jaime protested.

“Sansa did an amazing job fixing this place up. And my new dead animal-free living room is all I really need,” Lyanna explained.

“And are you happy with the house,” Sansa asked Robert.

He shrugged and put his arm around Lyanna’s shoulders. “As long as she is happy, I’m happy.”

“Smart man,” Jaime said with a smile, shaking Robert’s and Lyanna’s hands.

At the after-party, Sansa sat watching Ygritte and Podd talking together, wondering at Jaime’s assertion that Ygritte was “sophisticated”, i.e. high maintenance. He couldn’t be more wrong. Sure, she dressed really nicely on the days they were filming or meeting the home-owners, but that was professionalism, not snobbery. Sansa had spent many an evening with Ygritte and a bottle of wine, both women in yoga pants and baggy sweatshirts, watching a movie and seeing how many lemon cakes they could eat without bursting. Jaime was always wrong, wasn’t he?

But then she remembered her first impression of Podd, as a quiet, mousy personality because that’s how she saw him, only to learn that he opened up a lot once you got to know him, to the point that Ygritte had begun describing him as a sex god. So she had been wrong about that, hadn’t she? She turned to look at Jaime, sitting with Tyrion, leaning his head on his hand, looking a little bored and sleepy at something Tyrion was telling him, nodding periodically, but overall looking like he’d rather be in bed. Sansa giggled to herself, but looked away uneasily, deciding suddenly to get up and get another glass of wine.

What if they had been just as wrong about each other?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to TheCatTheWall for inspiring me with her vision of Podd with BDE.
> 
> Hope you liked it! I've estimated my future chapters, and have settled on 11 for now, might end up being 10. Thanks for reading!


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